Yj 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 


BY  EDWIN  LEFEVRE 


AUTHOR   OF   WALL  STREET   STORIES 


Illustrated  by  W.  R.  I/eigh 


NEW  YORK 

McCLURE,  PHILLIPS   &  CO. 
MCMV 


Copyright,  1905,  by 
McCLURE,   PHILLIPS  &  CO. 

Published,  April,  1905 


Copyright,  1905,  by  The  S.  S.  McClure  Co. 


TO 
DANIEL  GRAY  REID 


CONTENTS 


Part  One 

PAC 
1 


The  Flood  . 


Part  Two 
The  Gold 77 

Part  Three 
The  Paradoxical  Panic .  125 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  After   us,"    said    the   young    man,    "  the 

deluge!" Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


"Yes,  sir.    I  was  thinking  that  I  would  bring 

in  ten  millions  next  Thursday  "    ....     34 

"  Ruin  stares  us  in  the  face  —  you,  and  me,  and 

everybody!" 74 

"  I  don't  wish  you  to  ask  me  any  more  questions 

—  not  one"   .     .  .192 


PART  ONE:  THE  FLOOD 


1  HE  president  looked  up  from  the  under 
writers '  plan  of  the  latest  "Industrial"  con 
solidation—capital  stock,  $100,000,000;  as 
sets,  for  publication,  $100,000,000  —  which 
the  syndicate's  lawyers  had  pronounced  per 
fectly  legal.  Judiciously  advertised,  the  stock 
probably  would  be  oversubscribed.  The 
profits  ought  to  be  enormous.  He  was  one 
of  the  underwriters. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked.  He  did  not  frown, 
but  his  voice  was  as  though  hung  with  icicles. 
The  assistant  cashier,  an  imaginative  man 
in  the  wrong  place,  shivered. 

"This  gentleman,"  he  said,  giving  a 
card  to  the  president,  "  wishes  to  make 
a  deposit  of  one  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars." 

[3] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

The  president  looked  at  the  card.  He  read 

on  it: 

9£r.  6rortre  isitr&dl  Grinnr II 

"Who  sent  him  to  us  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  He  said  he  had  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  you,"  answered  the  as 
sistant  cashier,  disclaiming  all  responsibility 
in  the  matter. 

The  president  read  the  card  a  second 
time.  The  name  was  unfamiliar. 

"Grinnell?"  he  muttered.  "Grinnell? 
Never  heard  of  him. "  Perhaps  he  felt  it  was 
poor  policy  to  show  ignorance  on  any  matter 
whatever.  When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  in  a 
voice  overflowing  with  a  dignity  that  was  a 
subtle  rebuke  to  all  assistant  cashiers : 

"I  will  see  him." 

He  busied  himself  once  more  with  the 
typewritten  documents  before  him,  lost  in 
its  alluring  possibilities,  until  he  became 
conscious  of  a  presence  near  him.  He  still 

[4] 


THE  FLOOD 

waited,  purposely,  before  looking  up.  He 
was  a  very  busy  man,  and  all  the  world  must 
know  it.  At  length  he  raised  his  head  ma 
jestically,  and  turned  —  an  animated  frag 
ment  of  a  glacier  —  until  his  eyes  rested  on 
the  stranger's. 

"Good-morning,  sir,"  he  said  politely. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Dawson,"  said  the 
stranger.  He  was  a  young  man,  conceivably 
under  thirty,  of  medium  height,  square  of 
shoulders,  clean-shaven,  and  clear-skinned. 
He  had  brown  hair  and  brown  eyes.  His 
dress  hinted  at  careful  habits  rather  than  at 
fashionable  tailors.  Gold-rimmed  spectacles 
gave  him  a  studious  air,  which  disappeared 
whenever  he  spoke.  As  if  at  the  sound  of  his 
own  voice,  his  eyes  took  on  a  look  of  alert 
self-confidence  which  interested  the  bank 
president.  Mr.  Dawson  was  deeply  preju 
diced  against  the  look  of  extreme  astuteness, 
blended  with  the  desire  to  create  a  favour- 

[5] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

able  impression,  so  familiar  to  him  as  the 
president  of  the  richest  bank  in  Wall  Street. 

"You  are  Mr.  —  "  The  president  looked 
at  the  stranger's  card  as  though  he  had  left 
it  unread  until  he  had  finished  far  more  im 
portant  business.  It  really  was  unnecessary; 
but  it  had  become  a  habit,  which  he  lost  only 
when  speaking  to  his  equals  or  his  superiors 
in  wealth.  ^:09:^-. 

"Grinnell,"  prompted  the  stranger,  very 
calmly.  He  was  so  unimpressed  by  the  presi 
dent  that  the  president  was  impressed  by 
him. 

"Ah,  yes.  Mr.  Williams  tells  me  you  wish 
to  become  one  of  our  depositors  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  have  here,"  taking  a  slip  of 
paper  from  his  pocket-book,  "an  Assay 
Office  check  on  the  Sub-Treasury.  It  is  for  a 
trifle  over  a  hundred  thousand  dollars. " 

Even  the  greatest  bank  in  Wall  Street 
must  have  a  kindly  feeling  toward  deposi- 
[6] 


THE  FLOOD 

tors  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Mr. 
Dawson  permitted  himself  to  smile  grac 
iously. 

"  I  am  sure  we  shall  be  glad  to  have  your 
account,  Mr.  Grinnell,"  he  said.  "You  are 
in  business  in  —  "  The  slight  arching  of  his 
eyebrows,  rather  than  the  inflection  of  his 
voice,  made  his  words  a  delicate  interroga 
tion.  He  was  a  small,  slender  man,  grey- 
haired  and  grey-moustached,  with  an  air  of 
polite  aloofness  from  trivialities.  His  man 
ners  were  what  you  might  expect  of  a  man 
whose  grandfather  had  been  Minister  to 
France,  and  had  never  forgotten  it;  nor  had 
his  children.  His  self-possession  was  so  great 
that  it  was  not  noticeable. 

"I  am  not  in  any  business,  Mr.  Dawson, 
unless,"  said  the  young  man  with  a  smile 
that  deprived  his  voice  of  any  semblance  of 
pertness  or  of  premeditated  discourtesy,  "it 
is  the  business  of  depositing  $103,648.67 
[7] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

with  the  Metropolitan  National  Bank.  My 
friend,  Professor  Willetts,  of  Columbia,  gave 
me  a  letter  of  introduction.  Here  it  is.  I  may 
say,  Mr.  Dawson,  that  I  haven't  the  slightest 
intention  of  disturbing  this  account,  as  far 
as  I  know  now,  for  an  indefinite  period." 

The  president  read  the  letter.  It  was  from 
the  professor  of  metallurgy  at  Columbia, 
who  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  Dawson's. 
It  merely  said  that  George  K.  Grinnell  was 
one  of  his  old  students,  a  graduate  of  the 
School  of  Mines,  who  had  asked  him  to  sug 
gest  a  safe  bank  of  deposit.  This  the  Metro 
politan  certainly  was.  He  had  asked  his 
young  friend  to  attach  his  own  signature  at 
the  bottom,  since  Grinnell  had  no  other 
bank  accounts,  and  no  other  way  of  having 
his  signature  verified.  Mr.  Grinnell  had  said 
he  wished  his  money  to  be  absolutely  safe, 
and  Professor  Willetts  took  great  pleasure 
in  sending  him  to  Mr.  Dawson. 
[8] 


THE  FLOOD 

Mr.  Dawson  bowed  his  head  —  an  ac 
quiescence  meant  to  be  encouraging.  To  the 
young  man  the  necessity  for  such  encourage 
ment  was  not  clear.  Possibly  it  showed  in 
his  eyes,  for  Mr.  Dawson  said  very  politely, 
in  an  almost  courtly  way  he  had  at  times  to 
show  some  people  that  an  aristocrat  could  do 
business  aristocratically : 

"It  is  not  usual  for  us  to  accept  accounts 
from  strangers.  We  do  not  really  know." 
very  gently,  "that  you  are  the  man  to  whom 
this  letter  was  given,  nor  that  your  signature 
is  that  of  Mr.  George  K.  Grinnell. 

The  young  man  laughed  pleasantly.  "I 
see  your  position,  Mr.  Dawson,  but,  really, 
I  am  not  important  enough  to  be  imperson 
ated  by  anybody.  As  for  my  being  George 
K.  Grinnell,  I've  laboured  under  that  im 
pression  for  twenty-nine  years.  I'll  have  Pro 
fessor  Willetts  in  person  introduce  me,  if  you 
wish.  I  have  some  letters  —  "  He  made  a 

[9] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

motion  toward  his  breast  pocket,  but  Mr. 
Dawson  held  up  a  hand  in  polite  dissent;  he 
was  above  suspicions.  "And  as  for  my  sig 
nature,  if  you  will  send  a  clerk  with  me  to 
the  Assay  Office,  next  door  they  will  doubt 
less  verify  it  to  your  satisfaction.  I  can  just  as 
easily  bring  legal  tender  notes,  I  suppose. 
In  any  case,  as  I  have  no  intention  of  touch 
ing  this  money  for  some  time  to  come,  I  sup 
pose  the  bank  will  be  safe  from  —  ' 

" Oh,"  interrupted  Dawson,  with  a  sort  of 
subdued  cordiality,  "as  I  told  you  before, 
while  we  do  not  usually  take  accounts  from 
people  of  whom  we  know  nothing  in  a  busi 
ness  way,  we  will  make  an  exception  in  your 
case. "  That  the  young  man  might  not  think 
the  bank's  eagerness  for  deposits  made  its 
officers  unbusinesslike,  the  president  added, 
with  a  politely  explanatory  smile:  "Pro 
fessor  Willetts's  letter  is  sufficient  introduc 
tion.  As  you  say  you  are  not  in  business  —  ' 
[10] 


THE  FLOOD 

He  paused  and  looked  at  the  young  man  for 
confirmation. 

"No,  sir;  I  happen  to  have  this  money, 
and  I  desire  a  safe  place  to  keep  it  in.  I  may 
bring  a  little  more.  It  depends  upon  certain 
family  matters.  But  that  is  for  the  future  to 
decide.  In  the  meantime,  I  should  like  to 
leave  this  money  here,  untouched. " 

"Very  well,  sir."  The  president  pushed  a 
button  on  his  desk.  A  bright-looking,  neatly 
dressed  office-boy  appeared,  his  face  exag 
geratedly  attentive. 

"Ask  Mr.  Williams  to  come  in,  please." 
The  office-boy  turned  on  his  heels  as  by  a 
military  command,  and  hastened  away.  It 
was  the  bank's  training;  the  president's  ad 
mirers  said  it  showed  his  genius  for  organiza 
tion  down  to  the  smallest  detail.  Presently 
the  assistant  cashier  entered. 

"Mr.  Williams,  Mr.  Grinnell  will  be  one 
of  our  most  valued  depositors.  We  must 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

show  him  that  we  appreciate  his  confidence 
in  us.  Kindly  attend  to  the  necessary  de 
tails.'*  Mr.  Dawson  paused.  Perhaps  his 
hesitancy  was  meant  as  an  invitation  to  Mr. 
George  Kitchell  Grinnell  to  vouchsafe  fur 
ther  information  of  a  personal  nature.  But 
Mr.  Grinnell  said,  with  a  smile:  "Many 
thanks,  Mr.  Dawson,"  and  Mr.  Dawson 
smiled  back,  politely.  As  the  men  turn 
ed  to  go,  he  took  up  the  underwriting  plan 
and  forgot  all  about  the  incident.  It  was  a 
Thursday.  It  might  as  well  have  been  a 
Monday  or  a  Tuesday;  but  it  was  not. 

Mr.  Williams  called  up  Professor  Willetts 
on  the  telephone,  who  said  he  had  given  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  George  K.  Grinnell. 
He  described  GrinnelPs  appearance,  and 
added  that  Grinnell  had  been  one  of  his 
students,  and  was  quite  well  up  on  metal 
lurgy,  but  was  not,  so  far  as  the  professor 
knew,  engaged  in  active  business.  He  thought 
[12] 


THE  FLOOD 

Grinnell  had  some  private  means.  The  As 
say  Office  people  had  identified  Grinnell  and 
his  signature.  It  was  not  much  information, 
but  it  was  enough. 

On  the  following  Thursday,  after  the 
close  of  the  business  day,  Mr.  Dawson,  read 
ing  over  some  routine  memoranda  submitted 
by  the  cashier,  found  his  gaze  arrested  by  a 
line  that  told  of  the  deposit  of  $151,008  by 
"George  K.  Grinnell."  He  sent  for  the 
cashier. 

"What  about  this  $151,000  deposit  by 
George  K.  Grinnell?"  he  asked. 

"  He  deposited  an  Assay  Office  check,  the 
same  as  he  did  last  week. " 

The  president  frowned.  He  was  puzzled. 

"If  he  should  happen  to  make  any  fur 
ther  deposits  of  this  character,  tell  the  re 
ceiving  teller  to  say  I  should  like  to  see  him, 
please. " 

"Very  well,  sir." 

[13] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

The  president  turned  to  his  desk  again, 
and  promptly  forgot  the  incident  —  forgot  it 
for  exactly  one  week.  On  the  following 
Thursday,  shortly  before  noon,  Williams,  the 
assistant  cashier  —  a  short,  stout  man,  with 
an  oleaginous  smile  —  approached  his  feared 
chief. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Dawson,"  —  the  assist 
ant  cashier's  habitual  attitude  before  the 
president  was  one  uninterrupted  apology  for 
existing  at  all  —  "  Mr.  Grinnell  is  here. " 

"Grinnell?  Grinnell?"  mused  the  presi 
dent,  frowning. 

"He  has  just  deposited  $250,000  —  an 
Assay  Office  check,  the  same  as  last  Thurs 
day.  You  said  if  he  should  - 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Dawson 
sharply.  "Tell  him  to  be  kind  enough  to 
come  in."  He  muttered  to  himself:  "That 
makes  half  a  million  in  gold  in  a  fortnight. 
H'm!"  When  Mr.  Dawson  h'm-med  to  him- 
[14] 


THE  FLOOD 

self  it  meant  business  —  usually,  woe  to  the 
vanquished ! 

He  rose  to  greet  the  /z-'m-compelling  de 
positor. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Grinnell?"  He 
smiled  with  a  cordiality  that  was  more  than 
mere  affability  and  extended  his  hand.  The 
president's  grasp  was  firm.  Wall  Street  said 
that  his  soul  had  been  in  cold  storage  some 
thirty  thousand  centuries  before  it  came 
down  to  earth  to  animate  the  body  of  Rich 
ard  Dawson.  But  Mr.  Dawson,  just  as  there 
are  men  who  endeavour  to  seem  honest  by 
habitually  looking  you  straight  in  the  eyes, 
believed  that  strong  pressure  must  indicate 
genuine  friendliness  in  a  hand  clasp. 

Mr.  Grinnell  smiled.  There  was  not  the 
faintest  trace  of  hostility  in  the  young  man's 
smile ;  but  it  was  not  a  fatuous  smile,  never 
theless. 

"The  cashier  said  you  —  >: 
[15] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

:'Yes;  I  told  him  to  ask  you  to  be  good 
enough  to  see  me.  I  hope  I  am  not  incon 
veniencing  you?" 

"Not  at  all.  But  I  fancy  you  are  very 
busy." 
!    The  president  smiled  in  self-defence. 

"Mr.  Grinnell, "  he  said,  with  a  sort  of 
quizzical  joviality,  "you  have  been  a  source 
of  some  —  I'll  own  up"  -  with  the  amused 
smile  of  men  when  they  confess  to  an  essen 
tially  feminine  sin  -  "  curiosity.  I  tell  you 
frankly  that  I'd  very  much  like  to  know 
more  about  you  —  what  you  are  doing,  what 
you  have  done,  what  you  intend  to  do.  In 
the  past  fifteen  days  you  have  deposited  with 
us  a  half-million  in  gold. "  He  again  smiled; 
this  time  interrogatively. 

"  Mr.  Dawson, "  the  young  man  answered, 

very  seriously,  though  not  in  the  slightest 

degree  rebukingly,  "really  i  can  add  nothing 

to  what  I  told  you  when  I  first  had  the  pleas- 

[16] 


THE  FLOOD 

ure  of  seeing  you.  As  I  said  then,  I  have  not 
the  slightest  intention  of  disturbing  the 
account,  not  to  the  extent  of  one  cent,  so  far 
as  I  can  see  now.  Indeed,  you  may  safely 
assume  that  this  money  will  remain  un 
touched  for  an  indefinite  period.  I'd  rather 
keep  the  money  here  than  in  a  safe-deposit 
vault.  Still, "  with  a  smile  for  the  first  time, 
"  if  you  think  I'd  better  transfer  my  account 
to  the  Eastern  National,  or  the  Marshall 
National,  to  save  you  further  —  ' 

"Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  Grinnell!"  in  a  tone 
that  conveyed  to  a  nicety  his  shock  at  being 
misunderstood,  "I  merely  wished  to  learn 
more  about  you  from  a  natural  business 
curiosity.  We  certainly  are  satisfied  if  you 
are." 

"Well,"  Grinnell  said,  smiling  again,  "I 

am  twenty-nine  years  old,  single,  an  orphan, 

a  graduate  of  the  School  of  Mines.  I  live 

with  my  sister  at  193  West  38th  Street,  and 

[17] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

I  believe  in  a  republican  form  of  govern 
ment  under  a  Democratic  administration." 
"My  dear  Mr.  Grinnell,"  said  the  presi 
dent,  with  a  look  of  regret  to  hide  his  annoy 
ance,  "pray  do  not  imagine  for  an  instant 
that  I  had  any  desire  to  pry  into  your  per 
sonal  affairs.  You  know,  we  like  to  take  an 
interest  in  our  depositors,  just  as  we  wish  our 
depositors  to  take  an  interest  in  us.  Your 
bank  president  should  be  your  business 
father  confessor.  The  time  may  come  when 
we  may  be  of  use  to  you.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
give  you  my  best  advice,  should  you  ever 
care  for  it.  And,  Mr.  Grinnell, "  with  a  smile, 
paternal  to  the  last  eighth,  "I  am  a  month 
or  two  older  than  you.  I  have  had  some  ex 
perience  in  many  lines  of  business,"  except 
ing  that  of  Mr.  George  K.  Grinnell,  who  did 
not  accept  the  subtle  invitation  to  confide. 
Then,  with  a  final  smile,  putting  his  hand  on 
the  young  man's  shoulder:  "As  for  your  ac- 
[18] 


THE  FLOOD 

count,  Mr.  Grinnell,  may  it  continue  to 
grow!  We  can  stand  it  if  you  can. " 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that;  very  glad  indeed, 
I  may  take  you  at  your  word.  Being  young, 
I  am,  of  course,  very  wise,  Mr.  Dawson.  But 
I  have  hopes  of  getting  over  it.  When  my 
account  becomes  really  respectable,  I,  doubt 
less,  shall  be  more  than  glad  to  avail  myself 
of  your  advice.  I  shall  value  it  highly. " 

"It  is  yours  at  any  time,  Mr.  Grinnell," 
said  the  president,  shaking  hands.  He  did 
not  show  any  surprise  at  the  intimation  of 
greater  deposits  in  the  future.  It  was  as  well 
that  he  did  not.  On  Thursday  of  the  follow 
ing  week,  Mr.  George  K.  Grinnell  deposited 
an  Assay  Office  check  for  $500,000  lacking  a 
few  cents.  It  made  a  million  of  gold  bullion 
which  the  young  man  had  sold  to  the  United 
States  Assay  Office,  and  of  which  he  had 
deposited  the  proceeds  in  the  Metropolitan 
National  Bank.  The  president  did  not  forget 
[19] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

the  incident  when  the  cashier  sent  in  a  mem 
orandum,  but  promptly  summoned  the 
official. 

"  Mr.  Grinnell  has  become  quite  a  deposi 
tor,  I  see,"  he  said. 

"  Every  Thursday  he  comes  with  an  Assay 
Office--  " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  It  seems  to  be  a  habit  with 
him.  If  he  should  come  in  next  Thursday, 
or  at  any  time,  let  me  know  at  once.  Don't 
ask  him  to  come  into  my  office,  but  let  me 
know  he  is  here,  at  once.  Has  he  drawn  any 
checks  on  us  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  not  one. " 

"  If  he  does,  let  me  see  it. " 

"  It  is  —  er  —  rather  curious, "  ventured 
the  cashier. 

"Not  at  all, "  said  Mr.  Dawson  curtly.  The 
cashier  left  him  without  another  word. 

The  advent  of  the  strange  depositor  was 
curiously  awaited  by  the  tellers  to  whom  the 
[20] 


THE  FLOOD 

cashier  had  spoken.  The  cashier  himself 
offered  to  bet  his  assistant  that  Grinnell 
would  not  deposit  more  than  $500,000.  The 
fat  assistant  decided  to  lose  a  five-dollar  hat 
to  his  superior,  and  then  to  ask  that  same 
superior  for  an  increase  in  salary.  He  bet 
that  Grinnell  would  deposit  a  million. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  with  a  look  of  intense 
astuteness,  that  his  device  of  intentionally 
losing  the  bet  might  not  be  too  obvious,  "he 
deposited  first  a  hundred  thousand,  then  a 
hundred  and  fifty;  then  two-fifty;  then  he 
doubled  and  deposited  five  hundred  thou 
sand.  I  think  he  will  double  again  and  de 
posit  a  million." 

"  Millions  don't  grow  on  bushes.  I'll  take 
the  bet,"  remarked  the  cashier  stingingly. 
His  subordinate  covered  a  chuckle  of  success 
by  a  woeful  smile  of  self -depreciation.  But 
his  exultation  over  the  increase  in  salary  to 
follow  the  artistic  loss  of  a  five-dollar  hat  did 

[21] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

not  endure  long.  Grover,  one  of  the  receiv 
ing  tellers,  on  Thursday  hastily  sent  him 
word  that  Mr.  Grinnell  had  deposited 
$1,000,000,  and  was  being  delayed  at  the 
teller's  window  on  a  pretext  of  attending 
to  some  clerical  detail.  The  assistant  cashier 
straightway  walked  into  the  president's 
room. 

"  Mr.  Grinnell  is  outside,  sir.  He  has  just 
deposited  one  million." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Williams." 

The  president  walked  out  of  his  private 
office,  through  the  corridor,  into  the  main 
office  of  the  bank.  On  one  side  there  was 
a  long,  marble  counter,  surmounted  by  a 
bronze  railing,  having  windows  barred  like 
those  of  a  jail,  behind  which  were  imprisoned 
the  tellers  and  the  clerks;  on  the  other,  the 
plain  walls,  with  the  long  panels  of  polished 
marble,  and  the  high,  little  upright  desks 
over  the  steam  radiators  at  which  the  cus- 


THE  FLOOD 

tomers  made  out  the  deposit  slips  or  signed 
checks.  It  was  not  unlike  a  church,  this 
temple  of  Mammon,  known  in  Wall  Street  as 
"Fort  Dawson."  It  had  a  look  of  austerity 
that  impressed  people.  The  clink  of  gold  was 
aristocratically  inaudible;  the  clerks  habit 
ually  spoke  in  whispers,  and  outsiders  felt 
this  and  lowered  their  voices  instinctively. 
A  bank  which  tolerated  boisterous  humour 
would  not  have  been  quite  safe  enough.  This 
one  repelled  levity,  and  attracted  deposits; 
it  had  nearly  $150,000,000  of  other  people's 
money.  Great  was  Dawson  and  his  golden 
fort! 

The  president  walked,  hatless,  through 
the  corridor  as  though  he  were  going  to 
another  department  and  met,  quite  acci 
dentally,  Mr.  George  K.  Grinnell,  who  hap 
pened  to  be  there. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Grinnell  ?  I'm  glad 
to  see  you,"  he  said  cordially.  There  was  no 
[23] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

pretence  about  his  cordiality;  the  man  had 
on  deposit  two  millions.  But  it  was  not  this 
particular  man's  deposit  which  caused  the 
busy  clerks  to  make  mistakes  in  adding 
their  rows  of  figures ;  they  were  accustomed 
to  the  fluctuating,  semi-fictitious  millions  of 
the  great  stock-gamblers.  It  was  that  Mr. 
Dawson  should  be  so  cordial  to  any  man. 

"  I  am  very  well,  thanks, "  said  the  young 
man.  "  So  are  you,  I  can  see. " 

"You  have  good  eyes.  Well,  what  have 
you  done  now?"  asked  the  president  play 
fully. 

"Deposited  a  little  more."  It  was  said 
calmly,  not  with  theatrical  nonchalance. 

"How  much?"  The  president,  naturally, 
was  asking  for  information  he  could  not  be 
expected  to  have. 

"A  million  this  time. " 

The  president  put  his  hand  chummily  on 
his  customer's  shoulder.  "Young  man,"  he 
[24] 


THE  FLOOD 

said,  in  mock  seriousness,  "when  will  this 
nefarious  work  cease?" 

"  I'll  stop  when  you  tell  me  you'd  rather  I 
went  to  some  other  bank, "  answered  Grin- 
nell,  smiling. 

The  president  shook  his  head  as  if  in  de 
spair. 

"You  are  incorrigible.  Well,  come  early 
and  often.  Drop  in  on  me  whenever  you  feel 
like  it;  glad  to  see  you  at  any  time. " 

"Thanks,  Mr.  Dawson, "  he  nodded, 
smilingly,  but  Mr.  Dawson  felt  non-commit- 
tally.  Mr.  Dawson  thereupon  became  serious. 
He  could  not  help  it,  try  as  he  might.  He 
drew  the  self-possessed  young  man  aside. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Grinnell,  it  is  a  great  deal 
of  money  to  have  idle  and,  naturally,  it  is  im 
possible  for  me  to  think  it  businesslike.  If 
you  contemplate  employing  it  in  the  near 
future,  of  course,  it  alters  matters.  But,  if 
we  are  to  allow  you  interest  on  it,  why  — " 
[25] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"  Mr.  Dawson,  pardon  me  for  interrupting 
you.  As  I  said  to  you  before,  I  have  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  disturbing  this  account 
for  some  time  to  come.  I  am  not  bothering 
about  investments.  They  can  wait.  And  I 
am  willing  to  waive  the  interest.  This  may 
be  unbusinesslike,  but  I  am  engaged  in  — 
ah  —  other  matters,  of  greater  importance. " 

"  Yes  ?  "  with  an  inviting  inflection. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  in  love. 

Both  laughed.  Then  the  discomfited  presi 
dent  said  jovially:  "I  don't  blame  you,  then. 
Love  before  business,  by  all  means."  And 
with  a  final  warm  hand-shake,  he  passed  on. 
But  he  resented  what  he  considered  the  jocu 
lar  evasion  of  the  young  man. 

On  the  following  Thursday,  Mr.  George 
K.  Grinnell  deposited  two  and  a  half  millions 
—  an  Assay  Office  check  in  payment  of  gold 
bars  weighing  120,543  ounces  three  penny 
weights. 

[26] 


THE  FLOOD 

The  president  was  disturbed.  It  was  one 
thing  to  mystify  the  Street,  and  quite  another 
to  be  himself  mystified.  He  did  not  love 
such  mysteries.  They  might  be  dangerous 
if  left  unsolved.  He  sent  for  the  bank's  chief 
detective,  a  man  of  much  experience  and 
ingenuity;  really  a  confidential  agent. 

"Costello,  on  Thursday  there  will  prob 
ably  come  to  deposit  some  money  with  us  a 
young  man  by  the  name  of  George  K. 
Grinnell.  He  lives  uptown  somewhere.  Ask 
Mr.  Williams  for  his  address.  Learn  all  you 
can  about  him.  Stay  here  all  day  Thursday. 
I'll  come  out  and  talk  to  him.  Report  at  once 
whatever  you  may  learn." 

"Yes,  sir.  For  the  preliminary  work  I'll 
put  John  Croll  on  the  case.  Then  I'll  take  it 
up  myself.  Have  you  any  reason  to  suspect 
anything  wrong,  sir?" 

"I  have  no  reason  to  suspect  anything.  I 
wish  to  know  who  and  what  he  is,  what  he 
[27] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

does,  and,  especially,  you  must  watch  the 
Assay  Office.  He  deposits  large  amounts  of 
gold  there.  I  want  to  know  where  that  gold 
comes  from.  Find  out  all  you  can  from  the 
Assay  Office  people.  See  the  truckman. 
Probably  it  comes  from  some  mine.  He 
brought  me  a  letter  from  Professor  Willetts, 
of  the  Columbia  School  of  Mines.  Say  noth 
ing  to  any  one  of  this. " 

"Very  well,  sir." 

Thursday  came.  A  stock  operator,  fa 
mous  for  his'  keen  reading  of  conditions, 
which  came  from  his  possession  of  a  marvel 
lous  imagination  combined  with  logical  rea 
soning  power,  walked  into  the  bank,  and  was 
impressed  by  the  vaguely  uneasy  something 
in  the  air.  He  at  once  called  on  his  friend, 
and  occasional  accomplice,  Dawson.  The 
president  assured  him  that  he  had  no  news; 
wherefore,  the  imaginative  plunger  rea 
soned:  "If  it  were  good  news  he'd  let  me 
[28] 


THE  FLOOD 

know,  because  it  would  help  him  to  have  me 
know  it.  The  news,  whatever  it  is,  must  be 
bad,"  and  left  the  bank  hurriedly.  A  few 
minutes  later  the  stock-market  became  very 
weak  —  the  suspicious  gambler  was  selling 
stocks  to  be  on  the  safe  side.  But  the  presi 
dent  paid  no  attention  to  the  whirring  ticker 
in  the  corner.  He  was  waiting  for  the  arrival 
of  Mr.  George  K.  Grinnell.  At  one  o'clock 
the  president  was  angry.  At  two  o'clock  the 
clerks  began  to  call  the  bets  off;  they  had  a 
pool  on  the  amount  Grinnell  would  deposit. 
At  half  after  two  Mr.  Grinnell  walked  in, 
wrote  out  his  deposit  slip  very  deliberately, 
and  presented  it,  with  a  check  and  his  pass 
book,  at  the  receiving-teller's  window. 

'You  are  late  to-day,  Mr.  Grinnell,"  in 
cautiously  said  the  teller. 

"Oh,  you  expected  me?" 

Grover  was  made  uncomfortable.  "You 
see,  Mr.  Grinnell,  you've  been  coming  here 
[29] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

on  Thursdays  so  regularly  that  we've  —  ' 
He  stopped  abruptly  as  he  looked  at  the  slip, 
and  the  Assay  Office  check  for  five  millions 
of  dollars.  He  credited  the  amount  on  the 
pass-book  very  slowly. 

Mr.  Dawson  came  out  of  his  private  office. 
One  of  the  clerks,  who  had  been  stationed  at 
the  door,  had  notified  him  of  Mr.  Grinnell's 
arrival. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  the  president 
cheerfully.  "  You  are  a  little  late  to-day." 

"  So  the  teller  was  just  saying. " 

The  president  was  annoyed,  exceedingly, 
that  Grinnell  should  have  learned  that  his 
arrival  had  been  expected;  but  he  explained 
smilingly :  "  Well,  you  have  been  so  punctual 
on  Thursdays  that,  I  fancy,  we've  grown 
rather  into  the  habit  of  looking  for  you. 
What  have  you  done  to  us  to-day  ?" 

"Five!"  There  was  a  curious  suggestion 
of  defiance  in  the  young  man's  tone. 
[30] 


THE  FLOOD 

"Five  millions?"  incredulously. 

"Yes."  Grinnell  looked  at  Mr.  Dawson 
calmly. 

"Well,  Mr.  Grinnell—  "  The  president 
paused. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Dawson  ?  "  returned  the  young 
man. 

"Really,  really,"  said  Dawson,  more  ex 
cited  than  any  of  the  clerks  remembered  ever 
to  have  seen  him,  "this  is  most  extraordi 
nary.  It's  —  most  extraordinary !  Won't  you 
please  come  into  my  office  a  moment  ?" 

"  With  pleasure,  Mr.  Dawson. " 

They  faced  each  other  by  the  president's 
desk.  Dawson  did  not  know  how  to  begin. 
Perceiving  that  the  silence  was  becoming 
embarrassing,  he  said:  "Kindly  be  seated, 
Mr.  Grinnell,"  and  himself  sat  down.  In 
some  curious  way,  no  sooner  was  he  in  his 
chair  than  he  felt  calm,  self-possessed.  It  was 
his  throne.  There,  seated,  he  heard  the 
[31] 


THE   GOLDEN  FLOOD 

speeches  of  men  as  from  a  height.  Mostly  he 
had  heard  suppliants  for  his  mercy  or  for  his 
favour.  It  had  given  him,  through  the  sense 
of  mastery,  a  great  confidence  in  himself.  It 
returned  to  him  as  he  leaned  back  in  the 
chair. 

"Let  us  speak  with  perfect  frankness. 
You  have  now  on  deposit  in  this  bank  —  " 

"I'll  tell  you  exactly,"  said  Grinnell,  con 
sulting  his  pass-book.  He  added  the  figures 
with  the  tip  of  a  lead-pencil.  "Exactly 
$9,537,805.69." 

He  looked  at  the  president.  Mr.  Dawson 
bowed  his  head,  as  though  thanking  him  for 
the  information.  There  was  a  pause.  Then 
the  president  went  on,  slowly:  "That  is  a 
great  deal  of  money,  Mr.  Grinnell,  to  have 
deposited  in  less  than  two  months.  It  is  more 
ready  cash,  with  one,  or  possibly  two  excep 
tions,  than  any  individual  has  on  deposit  in 
any  one  bank  in  the  United  States. " 
[32] 


THE  FLOOD 

"Indeed?"  There  was  genuine  astonish 
ment  in  the  young  man's  voice.  Dawson 
felt  it  unmistakably. 

"Yes." 

"But  there  are  so  many  very  rich  men." 

"Yes;  but  their  riches  are  not  in  the  shape 
of  hard  cash  at  the  bank.  The  interest  on 
that  sum  at  the  current  rate  is  more  than  a 
thousand  dollars  a  day.  It  is  what  makes 
your  case  so  remarkable  —  a  young  man, 
unknown  in  the  business  world,  the  possess 
or  of  a  vast  fortune  in  gold.  It  is  bound  to 
excite  extraordinary  interest. " 

"Then  I  am  glad,"  said  Grinnell,  almost 
apologetically,  "that  I  did  not  deposit 
more. " 

"What  ?"  He  was  startled  out  of  his  bank 
presidentness,  and  stared  at  the  young  man 
with  quite  human  amazement. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  was  thinking  that  I  would 
bring  in  ten  millions  next  Thursday. " 
[33] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"Good  Heavens!" 

"You  see,"  explained  the  young  man, 
very  earnestly,  "  I  thought  that  since  this  was 
the  bank  with  the  greatest  deposits,  after  I 
had,  as  it  were,  accustomed  you  to  this  sort 
of  business,  it  would  be  less  noticeable  than 
if  I  went  elsewhere. " 

Mr.  Dawson  rose. 

"This  cannot  go  on.  I  must  know  where 
this  gold  comes  from!"  He  glared  at  the 
young  man  menacingly.  His  face  had  grown 
pale.  Grinnell  rose  deliberately.  He  looked 
at  the  president  so  seriously  as  to  produce 
the  impression  of  a  frown,  though  there  was 
none  on  his  face. 

"  Mr.  Dawson, "  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  be 
trayed  displeasure,  "  as  I  told  you  before,  I 
have  no  intention  of  disturbing  this  account. 
As  far  as  I  can  see,  it  will  remain  here  indefi 
nitely.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  allow  me  inter 
est.  Should  I  change  my  mind,  I  will  give  you 
[34] 


THE  FLOOD 

ample  notice.  If  you  wish  me  to  relieve  you 
of  this  burden,  which  you  appear  to  regard 
as  excessive,  I  beg  that  you  will  say  so,  and 
I  shall  go  elsewhere.  I  bring  this  money  here 
because  I  feel  it  will  be  safe.  My  private 
affairs,  I  am  sure,  can  be  of  no  interest  to 
any  one.  You  have  but  to  say  the  word  and 
we  part  —  the  best  of  friends. " 

The  president  drew  in  a  deep  breath, 
"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons, "  he  said  with 
an  attempt,  not  over-successful,  at  contri 
tion.  "You  may  forgive  me,  but  I  never  shall 
forgive  myself.  But  are  you  sure,  Mr.  Grin- 
nell,  that  you  can  tell  me  nothing  of  your  — 
er  —  fortune  ?  Remember,  I  have  no  desire 
to  pry  into  your  private  affairs. "  He  had  a 
way  of  being  polite,  as  though  his  very 
thoughts  were  punctilious.  Wall  Street  dis 
trusted  his  self-possession.  People  who  have 
others  completely  in  their  power,  and  are  self- 
possessed,  are  too  dangerous  for  comfort. 
[35] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"  Well,  Mr.  Dawson,  the  fortune  happens 
to  be  one  of  them,"  said  the  young  man. 
"  So,  you  see,  I  can  only  regret  that  I  cannot 
answer  you. " 

"I  will  not  press  you,  Mr.  Grinnell.  Ah! 
of  course,  I  would  hold  in  the  strictest  con 
fidence  anything  you  might  see  fit  to  tell  me." 
He  smiled.  His  smile,  often,  was  that  of  a 
diplomat  at  a  reception.  His  attitudes,  the 
absence  of  nervous  gestures,  the  poise  of  his 
head,  all  bespoke  self-control.  But  he  could 
not  always  control  his  eyes.  When  he  was  not 
sure  of  his  expression  he  half  closed  his  eye 
lids,  and  spoke  very  gently. 

Grinnell  shook  his  head.  The  presi 
dent,  at  a  loss  for  words,  held  out  his 
hand. 

*  You've  forgiven  me?"  said  Grinnell 
smiling,  as  in  relief. 

"Mr.  Grinnell,"  with  a  mournful  shake 
of  the  head,  "that  is  unkind  of  you." 
[36] 


THE  FLOOD 

"Oh,  but  I  mean  it!  Good-afternoon,  Mr. 
Dawson." 

The  president  escorted  the  young  man  to 
the  door. 

"Good-afternoon,  Mr.  Grinnell.  By  the 
way,  are  we  to  expect  you  again  soon  ?" 

"Next  week,  if  I  live,"  and  with  a  final 
smile  that  gave  his  serious  face  the  indeter 
minately  youthful  look  of  people  who  have 
a  keen  sense  of  humour,  Mr.  Grinnell  left 
the  Metropolitan  National  Bank,  faithfully 
"shadowed"  by  Mr.  John  Croll,  formerly 
one  of  Pinkerton's  "star"  men  and  general 
sleuth. 

Croll  reported  daily  to  his  chief,  Edward 
Costello,  who  in  turn  submitted  a  written 
report  to  Mr.  Dawson.  The  young  man  had 
gone  straight  to  his  house,  193  West  38th 
Street,  a  four-story-and-basement  brown- 
stone  front,  purchased  by  George  K.  Grin 
nell  on  March  8,  1899,  from  Mary  C. 
[37] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Bryan,  widow  of  Mitchell  J.  Bryan.  He 
had  staid  indoors  all  day.  In  the  evening 
went  out  for  a  walk,  accompanied  by  a  fox 
terrier,  and  returned  at  ten  o'clock.  On  the 
following  morning  at  8:30,  accompanied 
by  the  same  dog,  took  a  long  walk  in  Cen 
tral  Park;  returned  at  ten.  Did  not  leave 
the  house  until  five  o'clock,  when  he  went 
to  the  office  of  Dr.  Coster,  the  well-known 
eye-specialist.  Returned  to  his  house  and 
took  the  customary  walk  in  the  evening.  He 
lived  with  his  sister,  very  quietly,  according 
to  the  domestics  of  the  neighbouring  houses. 
They  paid  no  social  calls  and  received  none 
while  under  observation.  The  household 
supplies  were  purchased  from  shops  in  the 
vicinity,  and  paid  for  always  in  gold.  On 
Monday,  at  10  A.  M.,  two  heavy  trucks  own 
ed  by  William  Watson  drove  to  the  house 
and  took  each  a  load  of  bullion  bars,  painted 
black  to  disguise  their  nature,  and  weighing 
[38] 


THE  FLOOD 

about  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  each, 
which  the  men  brought  out  through  the 
basement  entrance,  and  carried  to  the  Assay 
Office.  Mr.  Grinnell  drove  in  a  public  han 
som  behind  them,  accompanied  by  a  pow 
erfully  built  man-servant,  who  lived  in  Mr. 
Grinnell's  house.  A  second  trip  was  made. 
The  daily  movements  of  Mr.  and  Miss  Grin 
nell,  of  the  two  women  servants  and  the 
body-guard  then  were  given  in  detail.  They 
revealed  absolutely  nothing.  On  Thursdays, 
it  had  been  learned,  Mr.  Grinnell  went  to 
the  Assay  Office,  shortly  after  midday,  and 
received  a  check  for  the  gold  bullion  de 
posited  on  the  previous  Monday.  The  clerks 
there  had  been  requested  by  Mr.  Grinnell 
not  to  give  any  information,  but  Mr.  Grin 
nell's  name  —  an  undecipherable  signature 
—  appeared  several  times  on  the  register  of 
certificates  for  the  payment  of  bullion  depos 
its.  By  crediting  him  with  various  amounts 
[39] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

instead  of  one  lump  sum,  no  comment  was 
excited,  nor  had  the  interest  of  the  newspap 
er  reporters  been  aroused.  But  they  said  at 
the  Assay  Office  it  could  not  go  on  unno 
ticed  very  much  longer,  unless  Mr.  Grinnell 
took  bars  instead  of  checks  for  his  gold. 
They  thought  it  an  unusual  case;  but  the 
employees  of  the  Federal  Government  are 
not  supposed  to  have  any  imagination 
during  business  hours.  It  is  against  the 
rules. 

On  Thursday  Mr.  Grinnell  sent  in  his  card 
to  Mr.  Dawson  before  calling  on  the  receiv 
ing  teller.  He  was  admitted  at  once. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Dawson.  I  have 
brought  you  -  '  he  took  two  bits  of  paper 
from  his  pocket-book,  fingered  them  un 
certainly,  and  finally  returned  one  to  his 
pocket.  He  went  on:  "Ten  millions." 

"Is  that  all  to-day?"  The  president  not 
only  was  not  nonplussed,  but  actually  smiled. 
[40] 


THE  FLOOD 

He  was  a  great  man.  Even  his  enemies  ac 
knowledged  it. 

"That's  all.  You  see,  I've  been  deposit 
ing  a  little  every  week  in  the  Eastern  Nation 
al  Bank.  But  I've  decided  to  increase  it  to  a 
million  a  week,  and  I  wanted  to  ask  you 
if  the  Dry  Goods  National  also  is  to  be 
trusted." 

"  Great  Heavens,  man  !  When  are  you 
going  to  stop  ?  Where  is  the  mine  ?  Can't  I 
buy  stock  in  it  ?"  The  president  spoke  jocu 
larly.  He  had,  on  hearing  the  young  man's 
words,  determined  to  solve  the  mystery  if  it 
took  fifty  thousand  dollars.  It  had  ceased 
to  be  merely  a  mystery.  It  had  become  a 
menace.  This  made  him  calm. 

"  I  don't  own  a  share  of  mining  stock.  Do 
you  think  mines  are  good  investments?" 
But  the  young  man  asked  this  altogether 
too  innocently. 

"  Your  mine  would  be."  The  president 
[41] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

gazed  fixedly  at  the  spectacled  eyes.  Grin- 
nell  hesitated. 

"I'll  deposit  this,  then,"  he  said.  "Good- 
morning." 

But  Mr.  Dawson,  thinking  of  disturbing 
possibilities,  did  not  answer.  The  young 
man  with  his  deposits  of  nineteen  and  one- 
half  millions  —  and  more  to  come  —  troub 
led  the  president.  With  that  much  cash, 
Grinnell  already  was  a  potential  disturber 
of  finance.  With  much  more  he  could  be 
infinitely  worse  —  to  the  public  and  to  the 
great  moneyed  interests.  He  could  call  sud 
denly  upon  the  bank  for  his  entire  account, 
some  day  when  money  was  tight,  and  stock 
pools  needed  it  as  a  man's  lungs  need  air,  as 
a  man's  heart  needs  blood;  and  the  stock- 
market  would  be  convulsed,  and  guiltless 
millionaires  suffer.  Or,  he  could  mistakenly 
lend  it  at  such  low  rates  of  interest  as  would 
"break"  the  money-market,  and  help  fools 
[42] 


THE  FLOOD 

or  gamblers,  but  grievously  reduce  the 
bank's  profits.  Or,  he  could  so  misuse  it  as 
to  foil  some  stock-market  plan  of  Mr.  Daw- 
son's,  or  of  his  associates.  There  was  no 
limit  to  the  possibilities  of  mischief  from 
an  unknown  but  even  greater  supply.  Money 
is  a  commodity,  governed,  like  all  other  com 
modities,  by  certain  conditions.  Fancy  a 
man  who  suddenly  announces  —  and  proves 
it  conclusively  —  that  he  has  an  unknown 
number  of  millions  of  bushels  of  excellent 
wheat;  imagine  the  effect  not  only  on  un 
fortunate  bull  gamblers  on  the  Board  of 
Trade,  but  also  on  thousands  of  hard-work 
ing  farmers.  But  the  young  man's  case  was 
far  worse.  It  was  not  alone  his  possession  of 
much  money;  it  was  his  having  the  gold  it 
self  !  Money  is  only  money,  but  gold  is  more : 
it  is  the  measure  of  value.  To  disturb  that 
was  to  disturb  finance,  commerce,  and  in 
dustry.  The  working- world  would  cease  to 
[43] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

labour,  cease  to  breathe.  In  what  would  a 
millionaire's  affluence  or  a  labourer's  poverty 
be  measured;  in  what  would  men  buy  and 
sell,  pay  and  be  paid,  if  the  young  man's 
supply  of  gold  should  be  so  great  as  to  dis 
turb  the  value-measure  of  civilized  people  ? 
No  world-disaster  in  all  history  could  com 
pare  with  this ! 

Dawson's  mind,  keen,  imaginative,  was 
made  feverishly  active  by  the  stimulus  of 
fear.  Clearly,  there  was  but  one  thing  to 
do  —  important,  urgent,  vital!  —  to  learn 
all  about  the  young  man,  and  the  source 
and  extent  of  his  gold;  to  make  him  an 
ally;  to  share  in  that  wealth;  and,  in  the 
meantime,  to  reduce  to  a  negligible  mini 
mum  the  possibilities  for  mischief  against 
the  bank  which  that  young  man  and  that 
wealth  had  created. 

The  last  check  for  ten  millions  would  not 
go  through  the  Clearing  House  but,  in  order 
[44] 


THE  FLOOD 

to  arouse  no  suspicions  as  to  the  unusually 
heavy  Treasury  operations  with  the  New 
York  banks,  Mr.  Dawson  would  send  the 
check  to  the  Sub-Treasury  and  get  gold  cer 
tificates.  The  amount  would  be  put  in  as  a 
special  deposit.  It  would  not  appear  in  the 
regular  bank  statistics,  and  would  be  locked 
up  in  the  vaults,  which  would  keep,  for 
publication,  the  reserve  down  and  money 
rates  up  —  a  favourite  practice  of  this  king 
manipulator  of  the  money-market  —  as  well 
as  strengthen  the  bank  against  Mr.  Grinnell, 
should  the  young  man  suddenly  decide  to 
withdraw  several  millions  at  once.  He  at 
tended  to  this  and  other  business  details  and 
then  sent  for  Costello. 

"  I  must  have  the  full  history  of  Mr.  Grin 
nell.  Don't  come  to  me  without  it.  It  is  of 
the  utmost  importance.  Go  to  work  at  once. 
I'll  see  Professor  Willetts  myself.  Drop 
everything  else.  Spare  no  expense  and  use 
[45] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

any  means.  Understand?  Report  at  once 
anything  you  may  discover,  however  trivial." 

Costello  was  impressed.  He  had  worked, 
in  his  life,  on  cases  involving  enormous  sums, 
ingenious  swindles,  thefts  and  defalcations 
which  had  never  appeared  in  the  newspap 
ers,  the  unprintable  side  of  vast  financial 
deals.  But  never  before  had  he  been  dazed, 
as  now,  by  the  suppressed  excitement  of  the 
man,  steel-nerved  and  ice-hearted,  who  pre 
sided  over  the  destinies  of  the  greatest  bank 
of  America,  of  a  power  so  vast  that  it  was 
scarcely  second  to  that  of  the  Government 
of  the  United  States. 

The  bank's  detective  staff,  the  existence 
of  which  was  unsuspected  by  the  world  at 
large,  was  marvellously  well  organized.  Mr. 
Costello's  reports  were  lengthy.  Summar 
ized,  they  told  the  president  something  like 
this: 

George  K.  Grinnell  was  under  the  strict- 
[46] 


THE  FLOOD 

est  surveillance,  his  daily  movements  being 
given  in  detail  in  the  reports  of  John  Croll 
and  William  F.  Kearney;  but  they  afforded 
not  the  slightest  clue  to  the  young  man's 
business.  His  daily  walks  in  Central  Park 
with  his  fox  terrier  —  once  with  his  sister  — 
helped  the  investigation  no  more  than  the 
fact  that  he  spent  most  of  his  time  indoors. 
The  furniture  of  the  first  floor  of  the  house 
was  described  at  great  length  by  Mr.  Kear 
ney  who,  in  the  guise  of  a  book  agent,  mem 
orized  it  (Report  D).  Mr.  Grinnell  had  three 
servants  —  one  man  and  two  maids.  Every 
delivery  wagon,  and  every  person  that  had 
called  at  193  West  38th  Street  had  been 
shadowed  —  they  were  all  tradespeople. 
One  wagon  was  from  Wilkins  &  Cross,  the 
dealers  in  chemical  and  laboratory  supplies. 
The  driver,  John  C.  Plummer,  who  was 
interviewed  by  Kearney  and  then  by  Cos- 
tello,  vouchsafed  the  information  that  Mr. 
[47] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Grinnell  had  a  chemical  laboratory,  and  for 
years  had  purchased  supplies  from  the  firm. 
Lately  the  supplies  had  consisted  chiefly  of 
crucibles,  charcoal,  coke,  bone-ash,  litharge, 
acids  and  other  articles  used  by  assayers  and 
refiners.  Plummer  was  promised  $250  for  a 
complete  transcript  of  Mr.  Grinnell's  pur 
chases  from  Wilkins  &  Cross  from  the  first, 
which  he  agreed  to  obtain,  and  was  now  at 
work  on.  The  biographical  data,  obtained 
from  divers  sources,  most  ingeniously, 
showed  that  George  Kitchell  Grinnell  was 
born  in  Middletown,  New  York,  on  January 
1,  1873.  His  father  was  Frederick  Hobart 
Grinnell,  a  druggist,  who  died  in  1898.  His 
mother  died  in  1889.  He  had  one  sister,  two 
and  one-half  years  younger;  name  Ada.  The 
father  left  property  valued  at  about  $40,000, 
chiefly  real  estate  in  Middletown,  New 
York.  So  far  as  friends  of  the  family  knew, 
it  was  all  the  property  owned  by  George 
[48] 


THE  FLOOD 

Kitchell  Grinnell  and  his  sister.  The  rents 
were  collected  and  remitted  to  New  York 
by  Frederick  Kitchell  Carpenter,  attorney- 
at-law,  a  first  cousin  of  Grinnell.  By  Middle- 
town  people,  George  K.  Grinnell  was  be 
lieved  to  be  an  analytical  chemist  in  New 
York,  with  a  fairly  lucrative  practice.  Grin 
nell  entered  the  School  of  Mines,  Colum 
bia  University,  1891;  was  graduated  in  1895 
with  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Metallurgy. 
According  to  his  professors  he  was  a  good, 
but  not  exceptional  student.  But  had  im 
proved  with  age,  one  of  them  said,  and  was 
very  well  up  on  radium  —  perhaps  better 
than  any  one  else  in  America  excepting  the 
professor  himself.  Was  popular  among  his 
fellow-students,  according  to  some  of  his 
classmates;  was  president  of  his  class  in  his 
junior  year;  was  an  editor  of  the  Columbia 
Spectator  two  years.  After  leaving  college, 
spent  a  year  in  Middletown,  in  his  father's 
[49] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

pharmacy.  In  October,  1896,  came  to  New 
York  City.  Was  employed  as  assayer  in  the 
laboratory  of  Bangs  &  Wilson,  35  John 
Street.  Left  there  the  following  year  to  re 
turn  to  Middletown,  his  father  being  ill. 
Was  considered  a  competent  and  careful  as 
sayer  and  analytical  chemist.  A  fellow  em 
ployee  and  he  were  interested  in  an  electri 
cal  furnace.  But  no  patent  had  ever  been 
taken  out  in  either  of  their  names.  Remained 
in  Middletown  until  after  his  father's  death. 
In  1898  came  back  to  New  York.  Lived  at 
Mrs.  Scott's  boarding-house,  169  West  48th 
Street.  Purchased  the  house,  193  West  38th 
Street,  in  March,  1899,  from  Mary  C.  Bryan. 
His  sister  came  from  Middletown  in  the  fall 
of  1899.  They  had  lived  there  quietly  ever 
since.  On  Monday  two  trucks  —  the  same  he 
had  employed  for  some  weeks  —  came  twice 
and  took  bars  of  gold  bullion  to  the  Assay 
Office.  He  had  deposited  to  date  gold  valued 
[50] 


THE  FLOOD 

at  $36,807,988.  He  had  accounts,  also,  at 
the  Agricultural  National  and  Eastern  Na 
tional  Banks,  but  there  nothing  was  known 
of  his  business.  His  deposits  at  all  these 
banks  had  been  in  the  shape  of  Assay  Office 
checks,  and  also  in  Assay  Office  bars,  which 
made  the  bank  people  think  he  was  a  mining 
man. 

Professor  Willetts  could  not  tell  Dawson 
much.  He  knew  Grinnell  as  he  had  known 
hundreds  of  other  students.  He  had  never 
heard  that  Grinnell  was  wealthy,  certainly 
not  wealthy  enough  to  be  a  worthless  stu 
dent.  He  remembered  having  recommended 
Grinnell  to  Bangs  &  Wilson  as  a  good  as- 
sayer.  The  young  man's  graduating  thesis 
had  been  on  electro-metallurgy.  He  was  a 
pleasant  enough  chap.  The  president,  on 
hearing  Willetts's  words,  felt  it  wise  to  say 
nothing  of  Grinnell's  enormous  gold  supply. 
The  less  people  talked  about  it  the  better  it 
[51] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

might  be  for  the  bank,  if  things  did  not  go 
right  afterward. 

On  Thursday,  shortly  after  midday,  Mr. 
Grinnell  sent  in  his  card  to  the  president. 
Mr.  Dawson  greeted  him  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,  Mr.  Grinnell." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Dawson ?" 

"I  am  worried,  Mr.  Grinnell.  Very  much 
worried."  The  president  looked  it.  He  al 
ways  made  it  a  practice  of  looking  the  way  he 
said  he  felt.  This  time  he  did  not  have  to  act. 

"Indeed?  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  it,"  an 
swered  Grinnell  —  with  a  very  good  simula 
tion  of  concern,  the  president  thought. 

"You  will  be  sorrier  to  hear,  Mr.  Grinnell, 
that  you  are  the  cause  of  my  worry." 

"I?"  The  astonishment  was  not  so  great 
as  a  sort  of  uneasiness,  which  did  not  escape 
the  older  man. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Grinnell,  you.  Have  you  de 
posited  any  more  — " 

[52] 


THE  FLOOD 

"Oh!  I  can  withdraw  it,  if  you  don't 
care  to  have  it." 

"How  much?" 

"The  same  as  last  week."  Grinnell  said  it 
diffidently,  uncomfortably,  as  if  he  felt  guilty 
of  taking  undue  advantage  of  the  president's 
kindness. 

"Ten  millions?"  Mr.  Dawson  gasped 
slightly. 

"Ye-es,  sir,"  doubtfully.  He  evidently 
would  have  denied  it  if  he  could. 

The  president  took  a  cigar  and  contem 
plated  it  a  long  time.  A  boy  entered  with  a 
card.  The  president  said  sharply:  "I  can't 
see  any  one."  He  threw  the  unlit  cigar  on 
the  desk. 

The  office-boy  hesitated;  then,  with  a  pale 
face,  said,  "It's  Mr.  Graves." 

"I'm  not  in,  hang  it!"  shouted  Mr.  Daw- 
son,  whose  voice,  habitually,  was  so  care 
fully  modulated.  "Go  away!" 
[53] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

He  arose  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room.  From  time  to  time  he  snapped  his 
fingers  with  a  sharp  sound.  Grinnell  looked 
on  uncomfortably.  At  length  Mr.  Dawson 
ceased  his  walk,  picked  up  his  cigar,  in 
serted  it,  very  deliberately,  into  an  am 
ber  cigar-holder,  and  lighted  it.  He  faced 
the  young  man  and  said  with  composure: 
"That  makes  thirty  millions  of  gold  in  two 
months." 

"Twenty-nine  and  a  half,"  corrected 
Grinnell,  as  if  in  self-defence. 

"In  round  numbers,  thirty  millions.  You 
have,  also,  on  deposit  in  other  banks,  some 
six  or  seven  more." 

"I  —  I  think,"  said  Grinnell  dubiously, 
"that  it  is  less  than  seven.  Let  me  see," 
eagerly,  as  if  anxious  to  show  that  he  was 
not  so  black  as  Mr.  Dawson  would  paint 
him.  "It's  — it's— " 

The  president  waited. 
[54] 


THE  FLOOD 

"It  is  about  seven,'*  confessed  Grinnell 
regretfully. 

"  Mr.  Grinnell,  I  don't  know  whether  you 
are  familiar  with  finance."  The  president 
spoke  quietly,  twirling  his  cigar-holder,  and 
looking  at  the  ashes  critically. 

"Not  very,"  hastily  apologized  the  young 
man. 

:*  You  will  pardon  me  for  telling  you  that 
through  ignorance  of  the  responsibilities  of 
your  position  you  can  inflict  serious  injury 
to  the  entire  business  community  —  injury, 
Mr.  Grinnell,  which,  reduced  to  dollars  and 
cents,  might  be  many  times  thirty  millions." 

"  I  think,"  said  Grinnell,  a  trifle  dubiously, 
"that  I  can  see  ways  in  which  vast  sums  of 
money  would  do  harm  if  wrongly  used." 

"  Unwisely  used,  Mr.  Grinnell.  And  now, 

in  view  of  this,  I  should  be  grateful  to  you 

from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  if  you  could 

enlighten  me  as  to  how  this  gold  came  into 

[55] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

your  possession."  He  looked  at  the  young 
man  anxiously. 

"Mr.  Dawson,"  Grinnell  answered,  with 
a  determined  earnestness,  "that  is  some 
thing  I  must  refuse  to  discuss.  I  am  sorry." 

"  Not  so  sorry  as  I.  But  I'd  be  even  more 
grateful  if  I  could  know  how  much  more 
gold  if  any,  you  have,  not  on  deposit  with 
any  bank." 

"  At  this  moment  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  can't  tell,  exactly." 

"  Approximately  ?  " 

"Really,  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Dawson.  I 
may  as  well  tell  you  frankly  that  this  sub 
ject—" 

"  Is  of  great  importance  to  me,  sir,  as  the 
president  of  this  bank." 

"By  withdrawing  the  account,  then, 
I—" 

"  You  would  not  help  the  situation  which 
[56] 


THE  FLOOD 

you  have  created,  Mr.  Grinnell.  Have  you 
much  more  gold  ?" 

The  young  man  looked  straight  into  the 
president's  eyes.  He  said :  "  If  it  will  relieve 
your  mind,  I  can  assure  you  that  I  have  not 
much  more." 

"Everything  is  relative.  What  do  you 
consider  much?" 

"Whatdoyow?" 

"Say,  twenty  or  thirty  millions  more." 

"  Oh,  no !  I  haven't  thirty  millions  more." 

"Have  you  twenty?"  persisted  the  pres 
ident. 

"Twenty?"  The  young  man  thought  a 
moment.  "No,  I  haven't." 

"Ten?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Mr.  Dawson," 
the  young  man  said,  as  if  jumping  at  a  de 
cision,  "I'll  deposit  fifteen  millions  more  in 
this  bank  and  then  I'll  stop.  It  will  give  me 
forty-five  millions,  and  I'll  never  bother  you 
[57] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

again;  unless,"  he  added,  almost  pleadingly, 
"you  let  me." 

The  president  stared  electrically. 

"You  mean,"  he  said  sharply,  "that  you 
can  get  more?" 

;<  You  asked  me  how  much  more  I  had  at 
present  and  I  told  you." 

"I  beg  your  pardon;  you  didn't  tell  me 
exactly.  I  should  have  asked  how  much 
more  in  all  you  expect  to  have." 

"Mr.  Dawson,"  ignoring  the  president's 
last  words,  "it  seems  to  me  that  if  I  scatter 
the  deposits  among  other  banks  in  the  city,  I 
can't  do  much  harm.  In  fact,"  he  added, 
brightly,  as  if  at  a  new  idea,  "  I  could  open 
accounts  with  banks  in  Philadelphia,  Chica 
go,  Boston,  St.  Louis,  and  other  cities,  where 
they  would  not  be  noticeable.  And  even  in 
Europe.  You  could  transfer  some  of  the 
funds  I  have  here  to  the  big  cities  there,  and 
then  I  could  deposit  an  equal  amount  here, 
[58] 


THE  FLOOD 

so  that  my  account  with  you  would  never  be 
above  forty-five  or  fifty  millions,  and  — " 

"  My  God,  man !  Don't  you  know  that  — " 
Dawson  checked  himself  abruptly.  He  went 
on  very  quietly.  "Am  I  to  understand  that 
your  supply  is  not  exhausted  ?" 

"I  won't  deposit  any  more  of  it  here," 
said  Grinnell  conciliatingly. 

"How  much  more  is  there  in  the  mine?" 

"There  is  no  mine,"  answered  Grinnell. 
The  president  felt  he  spoke  the  truth. 

"Do  you  make  it,  then  ?" 

Grinnell  laughed.  "That  would  be  funny, 
if  you  thought  I  made  it."  The  condition 
of  the  president's  nerves  was  responsible 
for  the  wild  thought  that  lodged  in  his 
mind. 

"You  are  a  chemist,  a  metallurgist?  And 
you  have  studied  the  phenomena  of  ra 
dium?" 

"Yes."  Grinnell  looked  surprised,  but 
[59] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

not  exactly  guilty,  the  president  admitted  to 
himself. 

"Have  you  discovered  a  method  for 
changing  other  metals  into  gold,  or  for  ex 
tracting  it  out  of  sea-water?" 

Grinnell  laughed  again.  "I  am  glad,"  he 
said,  "that  you  are  not  worried  now." 

"Oh,  but  I  am!" 

"  Mr.  Dawson,"  said  the  young  man,  once 
more  serious,  "  I  am  not  such  a  very  rich  man 
as  rich  men  go  to-day.  You,  yourself,  if 
what  I  read  in  the  newspapers  is  true,  have 
more  than  I." 

"I  wish  I  did."  * 

"So  do  I.  You  probably  would  know 
how  to  deposit  your  money  properly.  At  any 
rate,  I  can  name  a  dozen  men  who  have  over 
fifty  millions,  and  — " 

"I  doubt  it." 

"And  half  a  dozen  who  own  over  a  hun 
dred.  The  Waldorf  family  certainly  do.  Mr. 
[60] 


THE  FLOOD 

Angus  Campbell,  of  Pittsburg,  is  said  to 
have  three  hundred.  Your  friend,  Mr.  Wil 
liam  Mellen,  of  the  International  Distribut 
ing  Syndicate,  is  supposed  to  have  five  hun 
dred  at  le*ast.  Why  should  a  fortune  of  even  a 
billion  dollars  raise  a  rumpus  these  days  ? 
It  was  inconceivable  a  few  years  ago,  but  it 
does  not  seem  out  of  the  way  now.  I  real 
ize  perfectly  how  the  sudden  increase  in  the 
gold  supply  of  this  country  could  produce  an 
inflation  that  might,  in  the  end,  prove  highly 
detrimental  to  general  business.  As  I  un 
derstand  it,  certain  financial  laws  cannot 
be  disturbed  with  impunity,  however  praise 
worthy  the  financial  law-breaker's  motives 
may  be.  But  a  billion  dollars  would  not 
make  such  an  awful  lot,  especially  if  it 
should  be  turned  into  circulation  gradu- 
ally." 

"  It  would  mean  an  increase  per  capita  of 
forty  per  cent.  It  would  be  terrific,"  said  the 
[61] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

president  earnestly.  "Your  argument  is  ut 
terly  unsound  unless  by  'gradually'  you 
mean  fifty  years." 

"I  certainly  don't  mean  any  such  thing. 
Supposing  new  and  enormously  rich  gold- 
fields  were  discovered,  would  that  upset  the 
financial  equilibrium  of  the  world  ?" 

"It  is  conceivable  that  it  could  easily  do 
so." 

"I  think  that  the  world  would  adjust  it 
self  to  the  new  conditions  very  quickly.  Just 
now,  the  South  African  mines  are  not  pro 
ducing.  Suppose  that  a  new  source  of  sup 
ply  should  yield  one  to  two  hundred  millions 
a  year  ?  Or,  five  hundred,  if  it  were  distrib 
uted  among  all  the  civilized  countries  ?  I'd 
be  the  last  man  to  make  gold  as  cheap  as  pig- 
iron,  I  can  assure  you.  But  — " 

The  president's  face  was  livid.  Dark  rings 
had  appeared,  as  by  a  stage  trick,  suddenly 
under  his  eyes.  Wrinkles  showed  about  his 
[62] 


THE  FLOOD 

nostrils,  like  those  seen  in  invalids  after  pro 
longed  pain. 

"Mr.  Dawson,  are  you  ill?"  asked  Grin- 
nell  anxiously. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  president,  with  a  pale 
smile.  "Your  views  are  —  er  —  I  mean  no 
offence,  Mr.  Grinnell,  but  they  show  that  a 
little  knowledge  is  a  dangerous  thing." 

"I  have  been  studying  this  matter  for 
some  weeks,  Mr.  Dawson,"  Grinnell  said, 
with  a  complacency  that  almost  made  the 
president  shudder.  There  was  no  telling  what 
the  young  man  might  not  do  in  his  ignorance. 

"Pray  proceed,"  said  Mr.  Dawson,  with 
an  effort. 

"As  I  was  saying,  I  have  been  depositing 
gradually  — " 

"Thirty-seven  millions  in  two  months!" 

"I  have  not  yet  enough  money  to  be  class 
ed  among  the  really  rich  men  in  this  country. 
But  I  am  young,"  with  a  smile  that  set 
[63] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

a-shivering  the  gold-enwrapped  soul  of  Mr. 
Richard  Dawson.  "I  am  keenly  alive,  I 
think,  to  the  obligations  of  really  great 
wealth,  and  I  trust  to  do  as  much  good  in  the 
world  as  I  can.  I  mean  to  be  a  very  rich 
man,  Mr.  Dawson.  Of  course,  I  could  live 
comfortably  on  the  income  of  forty  or  fifty 
millions;  but  I  am  going  to  do  more  than 
live  comfortably.  Man  owes  certain  duties 
to  his  fellow-men  which  are  neglected  too 
often.  Why,"  enthusiastically,  "the  pos 
session  of  unlimited  wealth  in  worthy  hands 
would  mean  the  realization  of  the  beautiful 
dreams  of  those  unselfish  men  whom  you, 
doubtless,  call  Utopians,  and  Socialists,  and 
visionaries.  They  are  the  men  who  believe 
that  mankind,  at  heart,  is  good.  They  are 
the  men  who  will  revolutionize  the  world!" 

"Revolutions  mean  disaster,"  said  Mr. 
Dawson  half  angrily. 

"  Possibly  disaster  to  a  few  individuals  at 
[64] 


THE  FLOOD 

first,  but,  in  the  end,  happiness  to  the  com 
munity,"  said  the  young  man,  with  an  in 
spired  air. 

"It  is  a  question  whether  the  price  paid 
would  not  be  disproportionate  to  the  good 
obtained."  Mr.  Dawson  spoke  as  though 
he  would  dissuade  the  young  man,  but  not 
too  strongly,  for  fear  his  words  might 
intensify  obstinacy.  It  was,  unwittingly,  a 
subtle  admission  that  he  thought  the  young 
man  did  not  lack  the  power  to  make  his 
dream  an  actual  catastrophe. 

"Whatever  means  the  greatest  good  to  the 
greatest  number  is  necessarily  good,"  re 
torted  Grinnell,  in  a  tone  that  permitted  no 
contradiction.  "A  revolution,  Mr.  Dawson, 
is  achieved  by  three  things :  By  time,  which 
is  too  slow;  by  blood,  which  is  revolting;  and 
by  gold,  Mr.  Dawson,  BY  GOLD!" 

The  young  man  was  looking  sternly  at  Mr. 
Dawson,  who  stared  back  so  fixedly  as  to  be 
[65] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

painful.  On  the  president's  brow  appeared 
a  microscopic  dew ;  you  would  have  said  his 
brain  was  shedding  tears  of  agony.  He  had 
visioned,  not  the  revolution  of  mankind, 
but  his  own  ruin! 

"Mr.  Grinnell,"  he  said,  with  a  curious, 
little  indrawn  gasp,  "  I  can  only  pray  you  to 
go  slow.  Don't  let  your  enthusiasm  lead  you 
to  precipitate  an  appalling  crisis.  You  can  do 
all  the  good  you  wish  if  you  consider  care 
fully  all  sides  of  the  question.  But,  as  you 
value  the  welfare  of  humanity,  go  slow,  Mr. 
Grinnell.  In  God's  name,  go  slow. " 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Grinnell.  "I'm  in  no 
hurry.  We  will  discuss  these  matters  from 
time  to  time.  In  the  meanwhile,"  he  took 
from  his  pocket-book  another  check  —  the 
same  as  he  had  taken  out  and  replaced  at 
the  beginning  of  the  interview  —  "  I'll  de 
posit  this  additional  five  and  one-half  mil 
lions,  making  thirty-five  in  all,  and  —  " 
[66] 


THE  FLOOD 

"Tell  me,  Mr.  Grinnell,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Dawson,  with  a  calmness  unpleasantly  sug 
gestive  of  desperation,  "  is  your  secret  known 
to  others?" 

"Which  secret?" 

"The  source  of  your  gold?"  The  inten 
sity  of  Mr.  Dawson's  gaze  had  in  it  some 
thing  ominous. 

"No  one  knows." 

"Ah!"  The  president  drew  in  his  breath 
sharply.  He  paused,  growing  visibly  calm, 
the  while. 

"If  anything  happened  to  you  ?"  he  said. 
He  meant  his  voice  to  show  solicitude.  It 
betrayed  merely  a  strange  and  not  kindly 
curiosity. 

"My  sister  would  know,"  answered  the 
young  man.  "I've  provided  for  that,  of 
course.  She  would  continue  my  plans,  with 
which  she  is  in  sympathy,  though  she  does 
not  know  the  extent  of  my  resources. " 
[67] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"H'm!" 

"If  I  died  suddenly,  either  from  natural 
causes  or  as  the  result  of  some  accident  or 
violence,  she  would  devote  her  life  to  carry 
ing  out  my  plans.  She  is  really  a  remarkable 
woman.  If  she  too  should  die  suddenly,  Mr. 
Dawson,"  looking  unflinchingly  at  the  bank 
president,  "  my  secret  and  my  history  would 
be  given  to  the  world.  It  would  make  inter 
esting  reading;  particularly  to  financiers,  Mr. 
Dawson.  I  have  written  full  instructions. 
The  average  man  could  not  be  trusted  with 
such  an  opportunity  to  become  enormously 
wealthy,  but  I  have  a  friend  who  is  above  the 
temptation  of  sudden  riches,  who  would  be 
my  literary  executor"  — with  a  faint  smile, 
as  at  the  hidden  humour  of  the  phrase  — 
"  He  is  a  real  socialist.  He'd  give  you  trouble, 
Mr.  Dawson.  And  if  he  dies,  there  are  three 
others  who  would  then  know  the  means  by 
which  I  came  to  be  one  of  your  depositors. " 
[68]  ' 


THE  FLOOD 

"And  your  deposits  ?" 

"If  I  died  before  I  carried  out  my  plans, 
what  need  to  worry  about  this  gold  ?  If  my 
sister  died,  she  wouldn't  care  what  became  of 
it  either.  I  fear,  Mr.  Dawson,"  he  finished, 
very  slowly,  "  that  the  gold  we  left  behind  us 
would  do  neithergood  nor  harm  to  the  world. " 

The  president  sat  down. 

;<  Yours  is  a  remarkable  story,  Mr.  Grin- 
nell,  which  I  am  compelled  to  believe.  I 
must  see  you  again. " 

"Next  Thursday?"  with  a  smile. 

"Very  well.  I  thank  you  for  your  confi 
dence.  I  beg  that  you  will  not  speak  of  your 
affairs  to  any  one." 

"  I'm  not  likely  to.  I  didn't  expect,  when  I 
came  here,  to  tell  you  as  much  as  I  have. 
Good-morning,  Mr.  Dawson,"  and  he  walk 
ed  briskly  out  of  the  office. 

The  president  gulped,  as  though  swallow 
ing  a  dry  and  obdurate  morsel. 
[69] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"We  are  undone!"  he  muttered. 

He  rose  and  stood  by  his  desk,  supporting 
himself  as  though  the  office  floor  were  un 
stable  and  staring  unseeingly  at  a  painting 
on  the  wall  —  the  portrait  of  his  predeces 
sor.  He  nodded  toward  the  portrait  and 
muttered  drunkenly:  "Absolutely  at  the 
mercy  of  one  man!" 

He  nodded  again.  Then  he  said  to  the 
portrait:  "I  must  see  Mellen!" 

He  blinked  his  eyes  as  at  a  strong  light. 
Of  a  sudden  he  pulled  himself  together,  put 
on  his  hat,  and  hastily  left  the  room. 

He  walked  quickly  up  Wall  Street  to 
Broadway,  turned  southward,  and  entered 
the  huge  home  of  the  International  Distrib 
uting  Syndicate. 

"Eighth  floor!"  he  said  to  the  eleva 
tor  man.  The  sound  of  his  own  voice, 
husky  almost  to  inaudibleness,  startled 
him. 

[70] 


THE  FLOOD 

"Eighth  floor,"  he  repeated,  very  dis 
tinctly. 

Walking  straight  to  a  door  at  the  end  of 
the  hall,  marked  "  Private, "  he  entered.  The 
burly  man  at  the  gate  of  a  railing  said: 
"Good-morning,  Mr.  Dawson,"  and  obse 
quiously  opened  the  gate.  But  Mr.  Dawson 
made  no  reply;  whereat  the  burly  man  won 
dered,  for  Mr.  Dawson  was  a  polite  man. 

The  president  passed,  unchallenged, 
through  two  rooms,  in  which  clerks  worked 
at  desks,  and  finally  confronted  the  head  of 
the  syndicate,  who  sat  at  a  flat  desk.  Before 
him  was  a  sheet  on  which  he  had  been  mak 
ing  calculations  with  a  lead-pencil. 

"How  do  you  do,  Richard?"  said  the 
richest  man  in  the  world.  He  was  a  middle- 
aged  man,  quiet-spoken,  brown-eyed ;  a  face 
quietly  alert  rather  than  over-shrewd.  His 
head  was  curiously  shapen,  broad  above  the 
ears  and  tapering  slightly,  though  notice- 
[71]  ' 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

ably,  at  the  top.  Phrenologists  spoke  de 
lightedly  of  the  abnormal  development  of  his 
bump  of  acquisitiveness,  because  they  knew 
who  he  was ;  and  of  the  absence  of  the  other 
bumps,  for  the  same  irrefutable  reason.  But 
the  very  shape  of  it  conveyed  an  impression 
of  an  unusual  brain  within  it,  though,  per 
haps,  people  who  did  not  know  who  he  was 
might  not  have  been  so  susceptible  to  the 
impression.  Great  leaders  seldom  look  like 
their  imagined  portraits. 

"William,"  said  the  president  of  the  Met 
ropolitan  National  Bank,  "we  are  confront 
ed  by  the  greatest  crisis  in  the  history  of  the 
world!" 

Consternation  appeared  on  the  face  of  the 
richest  man  in  the  world,  as  though  it  had 
been  flashed  upon  it  by  a  stereopticon.  It 
was  not  pleasant  to  see.  His  photograph, 
taken  at  that  moment,  would  have  impressed 
a  stranger  as  being  that  of  an  amateur  actor, 
[72] 


THE  FLOOD 

inartistically  expressing  dismay  —  it  was  so 
exaggeratedly  frightened. 

"What  has  happened,  Richard?"  he 
asked  tremulously,  rising  from  his  chair. 

"William,"  answered  Mr.  Dawson,  as 
though  he  expected  unbelief :  "  listen  calmly. 
Ruin  stares  us  in  the  face  —  you,  and  me, 
and  everybody!" 

"  What  have  you  done  ?"  cried  the  richest 
man  in  the  world. 

"Listen.  Calm  yourself." 

"Are  you  — ill?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  crazy!  If  I  were,  I'd  tell 
you  that  a  man  is  manufacturing  gold  at 
this  very  minute.  And  yet,  that  is  what  I 
think." 

"What  is  the  matter,  Richard?"  There 
was  merely  impatience  now,  in  Mr.  Mellen's 
voice. 

"There  is  a  man  who  has  discovered  an 
inexhaustible  supply  of  gold.  He  will  not 
[73] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

stop  until  he  has  a  billion  dollars.  He  is  a 
Socialist  - 

"What  are  you  saying?" 

"  William,  the  man  already  has  on  deposit 
at  the  bank  thirty-five  millions,  and  he's 
been  only  two  months  at  it.  He  has  at  least 
seven  millions  on  deposit  at  other  banks  in 
this  city.  We  must  do  something,"  and  Mr. 
Richard  Dawson  told  his  friend  and  asso 
ciate  the  entire  story  of  Mr.  George  K.  Grin- 
nell.  The  richest  man  in  the  world  listened 
with  his  very  soul.  There  was  danger  of  his 
being  no  longer  the  richest  man  in  the  world. 

"And  now,"  finished  Dawson,  "we  must 
think,  William.  What  are  we  to  do  ?" 

"It  can't  be  true!"  frowned  Mellen.  Then 
into  his  eyes  came  a  frightened  look.  It 
passed  and  he  said:  "Absurd!  It  can't  be 
true. " 

"It  is  true.   The  gold   comes  from   his 
house,  his  laboratory. " 
[74] 


THE  FLOOD 

"  It's  some  trick,  a  plot. "  The  richest  man 
in  the  world  had  imagination,  and  was  par 
tial  to  schemes.  "  We  must  prevent  him  from 
going  too  far,"  as  though  that  were  the  first 
thing  to  do  before  satisfying  a  merely  per 
sonal  curiosity. 

"How?"  The  president  was  growing 
calm.  If  he  was  ruined,  so  was  the  rest 
of  the  world.  He  did  not  care  for  the  rest 
of  the  world,  but  the  thought  braced 
him. 

"  Some  legal  action  —  J! 

"  Out  of  the  question.  There  is  no  ground. 
Besides,  the  less  publicity  the  better,  Wil 
liam,  we  are  in  his  power.  But  nobody  knows 
it,  not  even  he.  Therein  lies  our  safety.  In 
the  meanwhile  we  must  —  "  He  paused. 

"What?" 

"It  is,  obviously,  the  only  step  we  can 
take."  There  was  no  one  else  in  the  room, 
but  Mr,  Dawson  drew  near  and  whispered 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

into  his  friend's  ear.  His  friend  nodded  from 
time  to  time. 

"That,"  said  Mellen  quietly,  with  a  sort 
of  convictionless  acquiescence,  as  Dawson 
concluded,  "we  must  not  do  until  we  are 
certain  that  he  can  swamp  the  world  with 
gold!"  He  picked  up  the  sheet  full  of  lead- 
pencilled  figures  and  began  to  tear  it  into 
small  bits. 

"Confound  him!"  said  the  president 
angrily. 

"Yes,  Richard,"  agreed  Mellen,  with  ar. 
air  that  had  a  suggestion  of  conscious  guilt. 
He  never  swore.  It  was  a  sin.  He  was  the 
richest  man  in  the  world. 


J76J 


PART  TWO:  THE  GOLD 


Thursday  —  the  president,  a  keen 
psychologist,  to  reassure  the  richest  man  in 
the  world,  had  jocularly  called  it  Consterna 
tion  Day  —  Mr.  William  Mellen  and  Mr. 
Richard  Dawson  entered  the  bank.  They 
had  ridden  from  Mr.  Mellen 's  house  in  Mr. 
Mellen's  brougham.  They  had  discussed  Mr. 
Grinnell  at  great  and  painful  length  many 
times  in  that  week.  In  the  carriage,  on  the 
way  downtown,  they  had  talked  of  nothing 
else.  The  president  was  certain  that  the  mys 
tery  no  longer  was  a  mystery.  The  burden  of 
his  argument  had  become  that  a  condition, 
not  a  theory,  confronted  them.  The  time  for 
idle  speculation  had  passed.  It  behooved 
them  to  act.  The  lingering  indecision  of  Mr. 
Mellen  did  not  come  from  inability  to  change 
[79] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

his  lifetime's  plans  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  but  from  unwillingness  to  accept  at 
second-hand  the  inevitableness  of  some 
thing  unspeakably  disagreeable.  All  great 
business  generals  are  opportunists.  But  at 
times  the  greatest  minds  work  femininely. 

"The  question  of  whether  he  makes  his 
gold  or  not,  or  how  he  gets  it,  now  has  merely 
an  academic  interest,  William.  The  thing  is, 
that  he  has  the  gold."  Dawson  said  it  in  a 
playfully  exaggerated  pedagogical  air,  yet 
ready  to  become  deadly  earnest  in  a  twink 
ling. 

"I  don't  see  it,"  said  Mellen  seriously. 
"We  must  find  the  explanation.  What  he 
can  do,  we  can  do. " 

"We  have  tried." 

"We  must  succeed." 

'  Your  coachman  says  to  himself :  *  If  Mr. 
Mellen  has  made  five  hundred  millions  of 
dollars  in  thirty  years,  what  he  can  do,  I  can 
[80] 


THE  GOLD 

do.'  Do  you  see  him  doing  it  ?  I  tell  you  the 
man  has  the  gold.  He  isn't  trying  to  sell  us 
any  secret.  All  he  asks  is  to  be  let  alone.  That 
is  the  alarming  thing. 

"It  must  be  a  mine.  Where  else  could  so 
much  gold  come  from?"  Mellen's  thoughts 
were  on  the  source  of  the  gold. 

"My  dear  William,  we  can  account  for 
every  ounce  of  gold  produced  in  the  world. 
There  is  no  mine  capable  of  producing  such 
a  quantity  secretly. " 

"He  may  have  hoarded  it;  accumulated  it 

for  months." 

"  If  a  mine  produced  a  thousand  ounces  a 
month  we'd  know  it;  and  Grinnell  has  de 
posited  in  our  bank  and  others,  as  far  as  I 
have  been  able  to  trace,  at  the  rate  of  a  mil 
lion  ounces  a  month.  He  is  too  young  to  have 
hoarded  it  for  years.  He  has  no  accomplices. 
That  is  certain.  He  visits  nobody,  but  stays 
home.  His  father  did  not  leave  it  to  him.  He 
[81] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

has  not  unearthed  any  secret  treasure,  and, 
moreover,  there  never  was  or  could  be  a 
hidden  treasure  of  such  magnitude.  Why,  his 
gold  must  weigh  something  like  seventy-five 
tons !  Nobody  could  have  given  it  to  him,  for 
nobody  had  it  to  give  except  our  bank  or  the 
Commercial,  and  we  certainly  didn't.  The 
Assay  Office  say  GrinnelPs  is  not  quite  like 
any  of  the  other  bullion  that  goes  to  the 
Assay  Office.  Its  only  impurity  is  a  little 
platinum,  and  it  isn't  always  present.  We 
know,  within  a  negligible  quantity,  where  al 
most  every  ounce  of  gold  in  the  world  is,  and 
who  holds  it.  There  is  not  a  bank  or  a 
bullion  dealer  anywhere  whose  supply  is  not 
known,  approximately,  to  us.  It's  my  busi- 
j  ness  to  know.  There's  no  mystery  about 
that.  The  mystery  is  Grinnell's  gold  supply. 
He  cannot  store  vast  quantities  in  his  house. 
Our  men  have  been  in  every  room  in  it.  Cos- 
tello,  disguised  as  a  driver  from  the  dealers 
[82] 


THE  GOLD 

from  whom  Grinnell  buys  his  chemical  sup 
plies,  says  there  is  no  place  for  vaults.  The 
only  alterations  made  in  the  house  since 
Grinnell  bought  it,  that  he  can  see,  were  to 
transform  the  basement  into  a  metallurgical 
laboratory.  We  can  say  almost  certainly  that 
the  gold  is  melted  in  his  electric  furnace.  But 
all  that  we  know  positively  is  this :  NOTH 
ING  GOES  IN,  AND  GOLD  COMES 
OUT!  Grinnell  is  making  it,  I  tell  you." 

The  president  turned  to  his  morning  mail. 
Mellen  stopped  him. 

"  But  that  is  impossible.  You  know  it  is. " 

"It  is  a  scientific  impossibility;  but  it  is 

also  an  actual  fact.  Maybe  it  isn't  gold  at  all. 

But  the  Assay  Office  and  chemists  who  have 

analysed  samples  I  secured  from  the  Assay 

Office  say  it  is.  Where  can  he  get  it?  Not 

from  a  mine  outside  of  New  York,  for  we 

could  easily  trace  it,  no  matter  how  long  ago 

it  came.  Not  from  a  mine  in  Thirty-eighth 

[83] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Street,  or  we'd  know  it.  Not  from  sea-water. 
I  even  had  the  street  torn  up  in  front  of  Grin- 
nelPs  house  under  pretence  of  fixing  the  gas- 
main.  He  can't  get  it  from  the  air.  The 
whole  thing  is  impossible.  That's  why  I'm 
afraid." 

"  If  he  makes  it  he  must  make  it  out  of 
something,"  said  Mellen  controversially. 

"Wilkins  &  Gross,  the  chemical  people, 
say  that  last  year  Grinnell  bought  large 
quantities  of  iridium,  osmium,  ruthenium, 
and  other  metals  of  the  platinum  group.  They 
understood  that  he  had  been  experimenting 
with  an  electrical  furnace.  Costello  saw  a  gas- 
engine  and  a  dynamo  in  the  laboratory,  and 
a  lot  of  electrical  apparatus.  That's  his  spec 
ialty,  it  seems.  And  the  Columbia  people  say 
he  is  quite  an  authority  on  radium.  I  tell  you 
the  man  makes  it;  at  least,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  he  does.  Perhaps  it's  radium  rays 
applied  to  some  base  metal  in  some  way 
[84] 


THE  GOLD 

which  he  has  discovered  accidentally.  Wait 
till  you  see  him,"  and  Mr.  Dawson  began 
composedly  to  rip  the  edges  of  the  envelopes 
with  a  long,  sharp  paper-cutter. 

The  richest  man  in  the  world  walked  up 
and  down  the  office.  Once  his  lips  moved. 
Dawson,  who  happened  to  look  up  from  his 
work  at  that  very  moment,  asked  him: 
"  What  did  you  say,  William  ?  " 

"The  government  would  be  justified  in 
stopping  him. " 

"  If  the  world  knew  the  secret  of  making 
gold  what  would  be  gained?  He  has  us  in 
his  power.  No  sense  to  blind  your  eyes  to 
it." 

The  face  of  the  richest  man  in  the  world 
flushed.  He  said,  with  an  impressive,  be 
cause  calm,  determination:  "He  must  be 
stopped!"  He  paused.  Looking  at  his  friend 
steadily,  he  repeated,  very  quietly  —  too 
quietly:  "At  any  cost!" 
[85] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"If  we  can  stop  him  by  fair  words,  all 
right.  No  use  to  try  anything  else.  He  has 
provided  against  everything!" 

The  richest  man  in  the  world  stared  at  his 
friend;  his  head  was  bent  forward  as  if  to 
listen  better.  At  Dawson's  last  words  he  re 
sumed  his  pacing.  The  pattern  of  the  big 
Oriental  rug  consisted  of  ornate  squares  sur 
rounded  by  a  profusion  of  arabesques.  Mel- 
len,  his  gaze  fixed  on  the  rug,  stepped  on  al 
ternate  squares  as  he  walked  up  and  down 
the  room.  The  president  began  to  read  his 
mail.  From  time  to  time  he  looked  up  and 
saw  the  richest  man  in  the  world  striding  up 
and  down  the  room,  carefully  stepping  on  al 
ternate  squares  in  the  rug. 

An  office-boy  entered. 

"  Mr.  Grinnell  is  here,  sir, "  he  announced. 

The  richest  man  in  the  world  halted 
abruptly  and  waited,  his  eyes  on  the  door. 

"  Show  him  in  at  once.  Ah,  good-morning, 
[86] 


THE  GOLD 

Mr.  Grinnell."  The  president  rose  and  walk 
ed  toward  the  young  man  with  outstretched 
hand. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Dawson,"  said 
Grinnell  cheerfully.  He  became  aware  of  Mr. 
Mellen,  who  was  staring  at  him  unblink- 
ingly,  and  hesitated. 

"Mr.  Grinnell,  let  me  introduce  my 
friend,  Mr.  William  Mellen." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Mellen?"  said 
Grinnell.  Mr.  Mellen  shook  hands  and  Grin 
nell  gazed  attentively  at  the  richest  man  in 
the  world.  After  a  slight  pause,  he  added  dep- 
recatingly,  as  if  to  explain  his  scrutiny:  "I 
have  read  so  much  about  you,  Mr.  Mellen.  I 
hope  you  will  pardon  my  rudeness. " 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Grin 
nell.  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  you, 
lately."  Mellen  said  this  almost  impatiently. 
He  was  a  man  whose  business  soul  was  dark 
and  tortuous,  like  his  methods.  His  speech 
[87] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

was  habitually  non-committal,  and  he  had 
won  more  battles  and  more  millions  by  pa 
tience  than  by  aggression.  But  now  he  was 
eager  to  plunge  into  a  cross-examination  of 
the  young  man  before  him.  Yet,  he  looked 
ill  at  ease.  Perhaps  he  feared  to  find  that 
Dawson  was  not  mistaken  in  his  wild  sur 
mises. 

;t  Yes,"  put  in  the  bank  president,  with  an 
ingratiating  smile  at  the  young  man,  "I 
have  taken  the  liberty  of  speaking  to  Mr. 
Mellen  about  you."  A  slight  frown  appear 
ed  on  GrinneU's  face.  The  president  hasten 
ed  to  add:  "He  is  the  only  soul  on  earth  to 
whom  I  have  spoken.  You  see,  Mr.  Grin- 
nell,  I  was  very  anxious  to  bring  you  two 
together.  Yours  is  an  extraordinary  case; 
and  Mr.  Mellen  is  not  only  a  director  of  this 
bank,  but  I  consider  him,  as  a  business  man 
and  financier,  one  of  the  —  ' 

"Never  mind  all  that,  Dawson,"  inter- 
[88] 


THE  GOLD 

rupted  Mellen,  with  a  curious  mixture  of 
habitual  smoothness  and  an  unwonted  sharp 
ness,  as  if  deprecating  flattery,  and  at  the 
same  time  resenting  the  president's  apolo 
getic  attitude.  "  Mr.  Grinnell,  I  am  sure  you 
must  realize  that  you  have  created  a  condi 
tion  which  may  become  of  national  impor 
tance,  since  it  contains  a  dire  menace  to  this 
country's  business."  He  assumed,  toward 
the  end  of  his  speech,  or  his  voice  and  man 
ner  did,  that  Mr.  Grinnell  and  he  were  in 
accord  on  that  point. 

Grinnell  looked  distinctly  surprised.  When 
he  spoke,  both  his  hearers  felt  absolutely 
assured  that  he  wished  to  gain  time,  to  plan 
a  defence. 

"  I  certainly  do  not  realize  anything  of  the 
kind,  Mr.  Mellen." 

"Then,  sir,  it  is  high  time  you  did,"  re 
turned  Mellen.  His  face  was  composed,  but 
in  the  composure  there  was  menace.  Mr. 
[89] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Dawson  made  haste  to  offset  the  effect  which 
he  feared  Mr.  Mellen's  words  might  have  on 
Mr.  George  K.  Grinnell.  He  said,  with  flat 
tering  deference: 

"As  I  explained  to  you,  Mr.  Grinnell,  the 
money-market  is  a  delicate  piece  of  mechan 
ism.  Unusual  shocks  produce  unusual  dis 
turbances;  and  all  disturbances  are  highly 
detrimental  to  business."  He  smiled  dep- 
recatingly  but  forgivingly:  the  money-mar 
ket  was  a  pampered  child ;  no  need  to  be  too 
harsh. 

"Yes,  I  know  that.  But  what  unusual 
shock  have  I  given  to  the  delicate  mechan 
ism  of  the  money-market  ?"  GrinnelFs  effort 
to  conceal  his  annoyance  was  apparent  to  the 
two  capitalists. 

"You  have  not  yet,  sir;  but  what  assur 
ance  have  I,  have  all  business  men,  that  you 
will  not?"  The  richest  man  in  the  world 
asked  this  with  a  frown,  as  if  Mr.  Grinnell 
[90] 


THE  GOLD 

had  not  met  him  half-way  and  might  as  well 
now  throw  off  his  mask  and  reveal  himself 
frankly,  as  the  criminal  disturber  of  the 
world's  business  peace,  to  be  dealt  with 
accordingly. 

"Assurance  that  I  will  not  ?  Why  should  I 
disturb  the  money-market?  The  money- 
market  does  not  disturb  me."  Grinnell  said 
it  not  at  all  jocularly,  but  very  calmly,  as  if 
he  meant  it  literally. 

'  "But  you  will  disturb  it  if  you  keep  on," 
said  Mellen,  drumming  with  his  finger-tips 
on  the  top  of  the  president's  desk.  He  per 
ceived  this  and  ceased  with  an  abruptness 
that  betokened  remorse  over  the  absence  of 
self-control.  He  was  an  introspective  man. 

"There  is  nothing  unusual  going  on,  is 
there?  No  stringency  anywhere;  in  fact,  I 
gather  from  the  newspapers  that  money 
rates  are  very  low, "  Grinnell  went  on. 

:*  Your  deposits  are,  in  some  measure,  re- 
[91] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

sponsible  for  it,"  said  Dawson,  with  a  pla 
cating  smile. 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  the  young  man 
simply.  "It  is  a  good  thing  that  people 
should  be  able  to  borrow  money  cheaply, 
isn't  it?" 

"Not  too  cheaply."  Mr.  Dawson  shook 
his  head  and  smiled,  as  at  a  favourite  son 
who  is  in  error,  but  is  young. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean.  It  isn't  prof 
itable  for  the  banks  with  money  to  lend;  it 
makes  the  supply  greater  than  the  demand, 
and  you  get  lower  interest  rates  on  your 
loans;  and  then  it  is  apt  to  be  a  sign  that 
business  is  slack,  and  people  have  no  need  to 
borrow.  But  just  now,  unless  all  the  news 
papers  lie,  business  is  quite  active  in  all  lines 
and  —  "  Grinnell's  speech  savoured  slightly 
of  the  pedagogical,  like  a  school-boy  enunci 
ating  obvious  truths,  but  using  his  teacher's 
professional  solemnity. 
[92] 


THE  GOLD 

"That  is  not  the  point,"  interrupted  the 
richest  man  in  the  world. 

"What  is  the  point,  then?"  asked  Grin- 
nell,  with  an  air  of  forgiving  Mellen's  impo 
liteness. 

"  Do  you  propose  to  flood  the  world  with 
gold  ? "  Mr.  Mellen's  voice  rang  out  rather 
unpleasantly. 

"That,"  said  the  young  man  slowly,  "is  a 
very  remarkable  question,  Mr.  Mellen. " 

"Mr.  Grinnell"  —  Mr.  Dawson  spoke 
with  a  half -jocular  voice  —  "I  have  told  Mr. 
Mellen  of  your  extraordinary  deposits,  and 
he  naturally  wishes  to  know  if  you  are  ever 
going  to  stop. " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Dawson,  I  am  going  to  stop  at 
once.  I  shall  transfer  my  account  to  another 
bank.  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  —  ' 

"No,  no,  no!  You  misunderstand  me." 

"Mr.  Dawson,  I  have  told  you  several 
times  that  if  the  fact  that  I  was  one  of  your 
[93] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

depositors  disturbed  you,  you  could  rid  your 
self  of  your  suffering  by  telling  me  to  seek 
some  other  bank.  The  reason  why  I  selected 
this  one  was  because  it  was  the  richest  and, 
I  supposed,  the  most  ably  managed  in  the 
country.  Nothing  but  the  fear  of  arousing  a 
curiosity  I  could  not  gratify  made  me  de 
posit  my  gold  gradually.  If  a  man  deposited 
fifty  or  a  hundred  millions  at  once,  and 
everybody  knew  it,  he  could  not  live  in  peace 
in  this  country.  The  sensational  newspapers 
would  hound  him  to  death.  You  know  what 
my  views  are,  and  that  I  hope  to  do  some 
good  to  my  fellow-men  in  this  world.  But  I 
see  that  I  was  mistaken  in  my  assumption 
that  I  could  deposit  some  of  my  funds  with 
you.  To  prevent  further  —  ' 

"Mr.  Grinnell,  I  beg  that  you  will  not 

close  your  account  with  us.  Your  money  is 

yours  to  do  with  as  you  see  fit;  but  don't 

withdraw  it  because  of  a  misunderstanding. 

[94] 


THE  GOLD 

We  are  very  glad  indeed  to  have  your  ac 
count.  But  really,  my  dear  Mr.  Grinnell, 
you  must  see  how  natural  it  is  that  we  should 
wish  to  know,  not  so  much  the  source  of 
your  gold,  but  the  quantity  controlled  by 
you." 

"And  the  source  too,"  said  the  richest 
man  in  the  world,  in  a  tone  that  showed  there 
should  be  no  argument  about  a  purely  family 
matter.  "  Where  does  it  come  from  ?" 

"Mr.  Dawson,"  said  Grinnell,  distinctly 
ignoring  Mellen,  "  Mr.  Mellen  is  one  of  your 
largest  depositors,  is  he  not?" 

"Yes;  he--" 

"  Do  you  insist  upon  his  telling  you  where 
he  gets  the  money  that  he  deposits  here  ?" 

"Mr.  Grinnell--" 

"  Is  my  gold  any  different  from  his  gold  ? 
Is  an  Assay  Office  check  not  as  good  as  an 
International  Distributing  Syndicate  check  ? 
I  don't  mean  ethically,  but  financially. " 
[95] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Mr.  Mellen  flushed.  Mr.  Dawson  said 
with  the  dignity  of  suppressed  anger :  "  It  is 
not  that;  but  if  gold  is  to  become  as  cheap 
as  pig-iron  —  ' 

"Why  should  it?"  interrupted  Grinnell 
icily.  "Does  Mr.  Mellen  intend  to  give  all 
his  money  to  the  poor?" 

"This  is  —  "  began  Mellen,  in  a  rebuking 
voice. 

"Mr.  Grinnell,"  said  the  president,  still 
with  much  dignity,  "we  have  no  desire  to 
pry  into  your  private  affairs.  But  great 
wealth  means  great  responsibilities,  and 
what  is  permissible  to  a  pauper  is  not  per 
missible  to  you.  You  must  admit  that  there  is 
no  limit  to  the  harm  that  can  be  done  from  a 
too  rapid  increase  in  the  gold  supply  of  the 
world." 

"I  realize  that.  You  agreed  with  me  that 
an  increase  of  one  hundred  millions  a  year, 
in  addition  to  the  normal  output  of  the 
[96] 


THE  GOLD 

mines  now  in  operation,  was  not  excessive. 
Since  I  saw  you  I  have  carefully  studied  the 
matter" —  Grinnell's  voice  and  manner 
showed  profound  conviction  —  "  and  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  world  could 
not  only  stand  two  hundred  and  fifty  mil 
lions  more  than  it  is  now  getting,  but  be  all 
the  better  for  it.  That  is  only  a  billion  more 
in  four  years.  Four  years  is  a  long  time."  He 
looked  pensive  —  as  if  he  were  thinking 
how  very  long  that  would  be. 

Mr.  Mellen  started.  He  opened  his  mouth 
as  if  to  speak,  but  Grinnell  went  on  quickly : 
"Tell  me,  Mr.  Dawson,  is  it  not  true  that 
the  expansion  in  business  all  over  during 
the  past  few  years,  while  it  has  been  followed 
by  a  great  expansion  in  bank  credits,  has  not 
been  followed  by  a  proportionate  increase 
in  the  supply  of  actual  cash?  That  being 
the  case,  why  couldn't  it  be  possible  to  add 
two  hundred  and  fifty  millions  a  year  with- 
[97] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

out  disturbing  business,  by  distributing  one 
hundred  millions  among  banks  in  Germany, 
France,  and  England,  and  scattering  one 
hundred  and  fifty  millions  among  banks  in 
various  sections  of  the  United  States  ?" 

"Do  you  propose  to  do  this  ?"  Mr.  Daw- 
son  was  looking  at  the  young  man  with  an 
intentness  which  he  could  not  help  tinge- 
ing  with  anxiety. 

"That  isn't  the  question,"  said  Grinnell, 
a  trifle  impatiently,  as  if  unwilling  to  lose  the 
thread  of  his  argument.  "Do  you  deny  that 
such  a  thing  could  be  done  ?" 

;*Yes,  I  do!  It  would  mean  wild  infla 
tion;  it  would  lead  to  a  world  panic!"  said 
Mellen,  not  altogether  composedly. 

"Do  you  think  so,  Mr.  Dawson?"  Grin 
nell  persistently  ignored  Mr.  Mellen. 

"  I  think,"  replied  the  president,  nervous 
ly,  "that  $250,000,000  in  gold  a  year  more 
than  the  world  is  now  getting  would  be  too 
[98] 


THE  GOLD 

much.  Without  definite  knowledge  of  the 
source  and  limit  of  the  new  supply,  senti 
ment  would  become  so  alarmed  that  it  would 
mean  a  disastrous  panic,  probably  the  worst 
in  the  history  of  humanity,  since  there  would 
be  the  keenest  apprehension  over  the  possi 
bility  of  gold  being  demonetized.  An  inex 
haustible  supply  of  gold  could  lead  to  noth 
ing  else;  and  then  —  God  help  us  all!"  The 
president  was  so  impressed  by  his  own  words 
that  his  face  grew  livid.  Mr.  Mellen  was 
breathing  quickly. 

"  Who  said  anything  about  an  inexhausti 
ble  supply  of  gold?"  said  Grinnell  angrily. 
"I,  of  all  people,  do  not  wish  gold  to  be  de 
monetized.  What  would  my  gold  be  worth 
if  that  happened  ?" 

"Precisely;  that's  why  we  wish  you  to 
confide  in  us,"  said  Dawson,  with  a  very 
friendly  smile. 

"But  I  still  believe,"  said  Grinnell  dog- 
[99] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

gedly,  "that  two  hundred  and  fifty  millions  a 
year  would  not  do  harm.  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  on  that  point,  and  I  will  not 
change  it.  Mr.  Dawson,  you  have  asked  me 
several  questions.  Now,  let  me  ask  you  one : 
Do  you,  or  do  you  not,  wish  me  to  make  any 
additional  deposits  in  this  bank  ?" 
"  Certainly  I  wish  you  to  if  you  do." 
"Very  well."  The  young  man  took  from 
his  pocket-book  a  package  of  slips.  He  read 
one  after  another  —  the  bank  president 
could  see  that  they  were  Assay  Office  checks 
—  and  finally  selected  one.  He  said,  "  Here 
is  a  check  for  eleven  millions  two  hundred 
thousand,"  and  returned  the  others  —  there 
were  at  least  eight  —  to  his  pocket-book. 
"I  shall  deposit  this." 

Mellen  walked  over  to  the  desk  and  took 

the  slip  from  Mr.  Dawson's  hand  with  a 

calm  authoritativeness,  as  though  the  bank 

president  were  his  clerk,  which,  indeed,  was 

[100] 


THE  GOLD 

what  Wall  Street  thought,  though  erron 
eously.  Then  he  turned  to  Grinnell. 

"What  assurance  will  you  give  that  you 
will  do  nothing  to  ruin  us  ?  If  the  world 
knew  your  secret  it  would  mean  ruin  for 
all,  absolute  ruin!"  The  sound  of  that  word, 
uttered  by  himself,  seemed  to  shake  Mellen's 
composure.  He  glared  at  the  young  man. 

"  Mr.  Mellen,"  said  Grinnell,  very  quietly, 
"you  are  an  older  man  than  1. 1  shall  try  not 
to  forget  it.'" 

"I  must  know!  At  once!  Do  you  hear 
me?"  said  Mr.  Mellen  loudly.  It  was  not 
exactly  anger  which  burned  in  his  eyes,  but 
a  sort  of  overgrown  petulance  at  being  baf 
fled.  There  was  an  obstacle;  it  might  be  in 
surmountable.  The  uncertainty  was  in  itself 
a  check.  An  invincible  pugilist  had  been 
knocked  down  for  the  first  time  in  his  career 
as  champion. 

"William!"  said  Mr.  Dawson,  approach- 
[101] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

ing  his  friend;  "you  are  excited.'*  Then  to 
the  young  man,  apologetically:  "He  has 
been  under  a  severe  strain  for  some  time 
past." 

The  richest  man  in  the  world  grew  com 
posed  as  by  magic.  For  the  first  time  that 
day  he  became  his  normal  self.  He  had 
crushed  all  opposition  to  his  Syndicate 
twenty  years  before  by  the  exercise  of  stu 
pendous  will-power.  For  a  decade  he  had 
not  been  called  upon  to  weigh  his  words  or 
his  actions.  Through  disuse  the  qualities 
that  had  made  him  the  richest  man  in  the 
world  had  atrophied.  But  now  he  was  again 
the  William  Mellen  his  competitors  had 
feared. 

"  Mr.  Grinnell,"  he  said,  with  a  politeness 
that  was  not  excessive,  "I  apologize.  I  beg 
that  you  will  forgive  the  nerves  of  a  man  who, 
as  you  say,  is  much  older  than  you,  and  has 
many  more  troubles." 

[102] 


THE  GOLD 

"Have  you  thought  of  any  investment 
yet,  Mr.  Grinnell  ?"  interposed  Mr.Dawson. 
It  was  to  change  the  conversation.  At  the 
same  time  the  answer  would  be  interesting, 
possibly  valuable.  Mr.  Mellen  sat  down  and 
listened  attentively. 

"  No,  I  have  decided  to  wait  until  my  de 
posits  at  the  various  banks  are  larger." 

"How  much  do  you  propose  to  deposit 
with  us?" 

"  Oh,"  said  Grinnell,  with  a  smile  full  of 
an  ingratiatory  humour,  "if  you  are  still 
frightened  I'll  only  deposit  a  million  a  week. 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  start  a  bank  of  my 
own."  Mr.  Dawson  and  Mellen  exchanged 
quick  glances,  unperceived  by  the  young 
man,  since  the  young  man  continued  to 
smile,  almost  boyishly. 

"Yes;  you  must  not  dream  that  you  can 
produce  two  hundred  and  fifty  millions  a 
year,"  said  Mr.  Mellen,  ignoring  the  last 
[103] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

bomb,  about  the  bank.  "That  would  not 
do  at  all." 

"I  think  it  would.  Even  at  that  rate  it 
would  take  a  man  some  time  to  catch  up 
with  your  fortune,  Mr.  Mellen." 

"It  isn't  a  question  of  my  fortune,  Mr. 
Grinnell,"  Mellen  said  in  a  kindly  voice, 
"  but  of  the  fortunes  of  all  the  world ;  yours 
as  well." 

"I  have  no  objections  to  seeing  my  for 
tune  many  times  larger  than  it  is,  I  assure 

you." 

"  Neither  have  we,  provided  you  take  your 
tune  about  it* "said  Mr.  Dawson  earnestly. 

"  I  know  I  am  young,  but  there  are  many 
things  I  wish  to  do  before  I  die.  Life  is  un 
certain." 

"Yes,  it  is.  And  if  you  died?"  asked 
Mellen.  He  leaned  forward  slightly  as  he 
spoke,  his  eyes  on  the  young  man's. 

"My  sister  would  do  what  she  could." 
[104] 


THE  GOLD 

"And  if  she  dies?" 

"AFTER  US,"  said  the  young  man, 
"THE  DELUGE!" 

A  deluge  of  gold;  a  deluge  of  ruin,  de 
vastation,  and  misery!  financial  anarchy; 
commercial  chaos!  thought  the  richest  man 
in  the  world.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  breathed  a  bit  quickly. 

"Mr.  Grinnell,"  said  Mr.  Dawson,  "your 
fortune  already  makes  you  independent. 
But  I  think  Mr.  Mellen  will  join  with  me  in 
saying  that  if  you  care  to  consider  a  working 
alliance  with  us,  commercial  or  financial, 
we  should  be  glad  to  have  your  co-opera 
tion." 

Mr.  Mellen  was  again  leaning  forward,  al 
most  as  if  ready  to  shake  hands  with  his  dear 
friend  and  comrade,  Grinnell,  to  whom  he 
would  be  as  a  father  whose  love  made  him 
over-indulgent. 

"  Mr.  Dawson,  you  will  realize  how  little 
[105] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

of  a  business  man  I  am  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
desire  to  stand  alone.  If  it  were  a  question 
of  doubling  a  fortune  of  ten  or  fifteen  mil 
lions  I  suppose  I'd  be  only  too  glad.  But  I 
must  work  out  my  salvation  unaided.  You 
will  grant  that  the  possession  of  such  money 
as  I  have  deposited  in  this  bank  may  con 
ceivably  kill  the  desire  for  more,  unless  it  is 
to  be  used  in  carrying  out  plans  nearer  to  the 
heart  than  mere  physical  comforts.  There 
are  many  things  I'd  like  to  do  which,  with 
my  present  capital,  I  am  not  yet  able  to  do. 
So  I'll  choose  those  that  I  can  and  let  the 
others  wait.  For  example,  do  you  deny  that, 
if  a  man  had  two  or  three  hundred  millions 
of  dollars  and  started  a  bank  with  that  cap 
ital  he  could  solve  many  problems  of  vital 
importance  to  the  community?" 

"  I  see  great  possibilities  for  evil  —  ap 
palling  possibilities  for  harm,"  said  Mr.  Mel- 
len,  with  impressive  solemnity. 
[106] 


THE  GOLD 

"Infinite  possibilities  for  good  also,  Mr. 
Mellen,"  said  the  young  man,  a  trifle  sternly. 
"A  bank  designed,  not  so  much  to  pay  big 
dividends  to  its  stockholders,  but  to  protect 
the  public  and  to  help  business  men  and  the 
entire  community  in  time  of  distress.  An 
income  of  a  quarter  of  a  million  a  year  is 
sufficient  to  gratify  the  most  luxurious 
tastes  of  any  man.  It's  much  more  than 
enough  for  me.  The  rest  might  be  devoted 
to  the  good  of  humanity." 

"Is  that  one  of  your  plans?"  asked  Mr. 
Dawson  very  quietly. 

"Not  at  present.  I  realize  that  more  is 
required  than  merely  honest  motives.  I 
may  have  the  will  to  do  good  as  the  president 
of  such  a  bank,  but  I  lack  the  ability  and 
experience  to  conduct  it.  I  am  content  to 
see  Mr.  Dawson,"  with  a  pleasant  smile,  "  at 
the  head  of  the  richest  bank  in  America." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Grinnell,"  returned  Mr. 
[107] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Dawson,  with  the  cordiality  of  immense  re 
lief.  "What  are  your  plans,  then  ?" 

"  My  first  plan  is  to  make  more  —  ah  — 
to  make  arrangements  to  deposit  more  gold." 

"You  were  going  to  say  'make  more* 
something  —  when  you  stopped,'*  said  Mel- 
len,  with  a  sort  of  nonchalant  curiosity.  At 
least,  that  is  what  he  meant  it  to  look  like. 

"  I  was  going  to  say, "  answered  the  young 
man,  very  quickly,  "make  more  deposits." 

"I  thought,"  said  Mellen  with  a  smile, 
though  his  eyes  were  serious,  "that  you  were 
going  to  say  'make  more  gold,'"  He  was 
speaking  in  the  quiet,  self-possessed  way 
that  had  so  impressed  the  Congressional 
Committee  which  had  "investigated"  his 
Syndicate's  business  and  its  violation  of  the 
law,  because  it  so  resembled  the  self-posses 
sion  of  an  utterly  honest  man  to  whom  there 
had  never  come  a  thought  of  the  possibility  of 
a  doubt  of  the  righteousness  of  his  every 
[108] 


THE  GOLD 

action.  It  made  logical  the  impression  that 
the  richest  man  in  the  world  believed  himself 
the  instrument  of  Providence. 

The  young  man  laughed.  "That  would  be 
dreadful.  We'd  be  in  a  terrible  fix  if  we  had 
to  re-create  the  science  of  chemistry.  It  would 
mean  a  scientific  panic,  a  slump  in  the  mo 
lecular  theory  market."  He  laughed  again 
as  if  pleased  at  the  application  of  Wall  Street 
phraseology  to  chemical  science. 

"Don't  you  make  it?"  persisted  Mellen; 
his  voice  had  an  insinuating  quality,  as 
though  he  were  inviting  spiritual  confi 
dences.  He  was  not  a  persuasive  man,  but 
he  often  looked  so  much  as  though  he  had 
persuaded  himself,  that  it  had  the  effect  of 
persuasion  —  on  stubborn  and  misguided 
competitors. 

Grinnell  looked  at  the  richest  man  in  the 
world  seriously.  "It  is  perfectly  astonish 
ing,  "  he  said,  musingly,  "  how  many  people 
[109] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

still  believe  in  alchemy.  That  comes  from 
the  tommy-rot  they  read  in  the  Sunday 
newspapers  about  scientific  discoveries. " 

"You  haven't  answered  my  question." 
Mellen's  persistence  was  not  offensive.  He 
might  have  been  a  Sunday-school  teacher 
trying  to  make  a  shy  boy  tell  how  good  he 
was. 

"Mr.  Mellen,  the  chemical  laboratory 
which  you  built  for  the  Lakeside  University 
is  the  finest  in  the  country.  Professor  Ogden 
is  one  of  our  foremost  scientists.  Ask  him  if 
it  is  possible  for  any  living  man  to  make 
gold." 

"I'd  rather  ask  you  if  you  make  it  ?"  The 
voice  was  still  of  the  Sunday-school,  and 
Grinnell  the  favourite  but  shy  scholar. 

"  If  you  insist  upon  asking  such  questions 
I  insist  upon  refusing  to  answer  them.  If  I 
did  make  it,  would  I  tell  you?  You'd  tell 
everybody. " 

[110] 


THE  GOLD 

"Indeed  not!"  exclaimed  Mellen  eager 
ly.  He  could  not  help  it.  He  was  almost 
human. 

"Well,  Mr.  Dawson,"  turning  to  the 
president,  "I'll  deposit  these  eleven  mil 
lions." 

"You  have  more  gold  with  you?"  asked 
Mr.  Dawson. 

The  young  man  felt  in  his  vest  pockets, 
ostentatiously,  one  after  another.  Then  he 
shook  his  head  and  said  :  "  No. " 

Mr.  Dawson  smiled  to  hide  his  anger. 
"I  meant  Assay  Office  checks,"  he  ex 
plained. 

"I'm  going,"  confessed  Grinnell,  "to 
make  some  deposits  with  the  Eastern,  Agri 
cultural,  and  Marshall  National  banks.  But 
the  Metropolitan,"  he  added  with  a  pleas 
ant  smile,  "is  my  first  love.  Good-morning, 
gentlemen."  He  turned  to  go. 

"Mr.    Grinnell,   one  moment,   please.   I 

[in] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

should  like  to  ask  a  favour.  I  think  you  are 
depositing  too  much.  Ten  millions  a  week 
means  five  hundred  millions  a  year. " 

"  So  it  does.  But  I  thought  —  "  He  check 
ed  himself;  and  then  went  on:  "  What  is  the 
favour  you  were  about  to  ask  ?  " 

"Could  you  abstain  from  depositing  any 
more  gold  in  any  bank  for,  say  a  month  or 
two?" 

The  young  man's  eyes  were  thoughtful  for 
a  moment. 

"Well,  I  have  some  gold  I  must  deposit, 
as  I  have  no  facilities  at  present  for  storage, 
save  in  bank  vaults.  You  see,  I  had  not 
figured  upon  —  well,  one  does  not  always 
think  carefully  enough  in  advance  of  what  he 
is  going  to  do,  and  he  finds  himself  confront 
ed  by  conditions  he  had  not  reckoned  on. 
How  was  I  to  tell  I  couldn't  deposit  even 
fifty  millions  without  disturbing  you  ?  I  fear 
I  must  deposit  a  little  more.  In  fact,  I  can't 
[112] 


THE  GOLD 

stop,  even  if  I  wish  to.  But  I'll  think  over 
what  you  have  said. " 

"Have  you  much  more  on  hand?" 

"Quite  a  chunk  of  it!" 

"How  much?"  asked  Dawson.  The  rich 
est  man  was  leaning  forward  again,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  young  man  because  the  young 
man  was  not  looking  at  him. 

"I  don't  know.  I  haven't  weighed  it," 
answered  Grinnell. 

;'You  are  commencing  to  disturb  the 
money-market.  People  have  begun  to  wonder 
where  the  gold  is  coming  from.  The  news 
papers  will  take  it  up.  You  will  find  the  fi 
nancial  reviews  already  speaking  about  it. 
It  is  lucky  a  lot  of  Klondike  gold  has  been 
coming  to  New  York  lately.  But  unless  you 
let  up,  there  will  be  glaring  headlines,  and 
then  —  " 

"The  newspapers  must  not  take  it  up," 
said  Mellen,  almost  tenderly.  "That  must 
[113] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

be  seen  to,  Richard.  It  must  be  stopped  at 
any  cost."  The  president  nodded. 

The  young  man  was  thinking.  He  turned 
a  perplexed  face  to  Dawson. 

"How  long  must  I  stop  depositing  my 
gold?" 

"  It  isn't  so  much  a  question  of  stopping  as 
of  reducing  the  amounts  deposited. " 

"  I  can't  reduce  them.  I  must  deposit  sev 
eral  millions  a  week  or  stop  altogether.  My 
arrangements  are  peculiar  because  —  "he 
paused;  then  went  on  quickly,  with  a  smile 
as  if  pleased  at  being  able  to  cease  to 
flounder  —  "because  I  don't  like  half-way 
measures.  But  I  think  I  can  stop  for  a 
month."  He  thought  for  a  moment.  Some 
how  Mr.  Mellen  felt  as  if  the  young  man 
were  speaking  of  a  factory.  "Yes,"  finished 
Grinnell,  "I  can  stop  for  a  month,  Mr. 
Dawson,  out  of  regard  for  what  you 
say." 

[114] 


THE  GOLD 

"Thank  you.  I  appreciate  it  more  than  I 
can  say." 

"  Then  say  nothing.  I'D  make  another  de 
posit  in  a  day  of  two,  and  then  I'll  give  you  a 
nice  long  rest.  How  does  that  please  you,  Mr. 
Dawson  ?  " 

"  Very  much.  Only  be  sure  to  do  the  same 
by  all  the  other  banks."  Dawson  tried  to 
show  gratitude,  but  the  anxiety  was  upper 
most. 

"I  will." 

Mr.  Grinnell  extended  his  hand.  The 
president  grasped  it;  his  own  was  very  cold 
—  and  very  dry.  Mr.  Mellen  was  gazing  in 
tently  at  the  arabesques  in  the  rug  at  his  feet. 
He  did  not  answer  when  Grinnell  said 
"  Good-morning. " 

As  the  door  closed,  Dawson  rose  and  ap 
proached  Mellen. 

"William?  "he  said. 

Mellen  did  not  look  up.  Dawson  laid  his 
[115] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

hand  on  his  friend's  shoulder  and  repeated: 
"William!" 

Mellen  turned  an  expressionless  face  to 
the  president. 

"He  makes  it!"  said  Dawson. 

"He  makes  it!"  repeated  the  richest  man 
in  the  world,  hypnotically. 

"Do  you  feel  certain  of  it?"  Dawson's 
voice  betrayed  his  eagerness  to  find  comfort 
in  Mellen's  assent. 

Mellen's  mind  awoke.  "What's  that? 
Certain  of  what  ?"  But  he  still  looked  blank 
ly  puzzled.  It  made  the  president  uncom 
fortable.  He  repeated: 

"That  he  is  making  gold." 

"It  can't  be,"  said  the  richest  man  in  the 
world.  "  It  can't  be.  Of  course  not.  And  yet 
—  "  He  paused.  He  clenched  his  hands;  his 
lips  were  pressed  tightly  together.  Into  his 
eyes  there  came  a  straining  look.  Gradually 
the  tense  lines  about  his  mouth  relaxed.  He 
[116] 


THE  GOLD 

murmured  doubtfully:  "But  he  might  as 
well  make  it.  Perhaps  he  does.  He  has  the 
gold.  He  will  have  more." 

"I  am  sure  of  that/'  agreed  Dawson,  not 
over-cordially,  but  still  as  if  that  were  his 
firm  conviction. 

"We  must  find  out  more  about  him.  Are 
we  going  to  take  his  word  for  all  he  says  ? 
Even  if  he  made  it  he  must  make  it  out  of 
something.  Where  does  the  gold  come  from  ? 
How  does  it  come  ?" 

"It  comes  from  his  furnace.  Costello  all 
but  saw  it.  He  —  '•' 

"Why  didn't  he  see  it?"  interjected  Mel- 
len,  glaring  at  Dawson.  "Why  don't  you  put 
a  hundred  men  at  work  ?  Is  that  all  you  can 
learn  about  this  man  ?" 

Dawson  had  never  before  seen  his  finan 
cial  backer  display  vehemence,  ever  so 
slightly,  for  the  power  of  fabulous  wealth 
had  given  an  almost  pious  severity  to  Mel- 
[117] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

len.  The  years  of  golden  invulnerability 
seemed  to  have  rolled  away  from  the  richest 
man  in  the  world,  and  left  him  an  impatient 
youth,  crossed  in  some  cherished  plan,  ex 
asperated,  after  long  and  soothing  immu 
nity  from  attack,  at  being  forced  into  de- 
fenciveness.  The  president  said  to  him,  not 
servilely  at  all,  but  nevertheless  with  more 
than  a  suggestion  of  self-defence : 

"We  have  done  all  that  men  could  do. 
Grinnell  had  been  at  this  work  only  eight  or 
ten  weeks,  and  he  already  has  fifty  millions 
in  cash.  If  it  were  not  for  that  you  might 
call  him  a  charlatan,  a  trickster  of  some  sort. 
You  believed  what  he  said  when  he  spoke  of 
his  plans;  you  did  not  think  he  was  lying. 
You  know  men  as  well  as  I  do.  What  im 
pression  did  he  produce  on  you  ?  The  gold 
comes  out  of  his  house.  His  servants  won't 
talk.  I  told  Costello  to  offer  them  any  price 
for  information.  But  he  was  convinced  it 
[118] 


THE  GOLD 

could  not  be  done  without  Grinnell's  learn 
ing  of  it,  and  we  don't  want  him  to  know;  or, 
how  do  we  know  what  complications  might 
follow?  Costello  doesn't  think  they  know 
anything,  anyhow.  The  house  is  guarded 
day  and  night.  Costello  himself  went  into 
the  cellar  with  a  load  of  coal.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  Grinnell  takes  no  gold  into  the 
house,  and  that  the  gold  comes  out  of  the 
electrical  furnace.  He  has  fifty  millions 
now,  and  he  won't  rest  until  he  has  a  billion. 
That  is  his  minimum.  And,  in  the  mean 
time,  if  somebody  learns  his  secret  —  ' 

"We  must  find  out,"  shouted  the  richest 
man  in  the  world,  shaking  his  fist  wildly  in 
the  air.  "A  billion  in  gold.  What  will  be 
come  —  "  He  checked  himself  as  he  caught 
Dawson's  half-frightened  look.  He  drew  in  a 
deep  breath,  and  began  to  walk  to  and  fro. 
At  length  he  stopped  by  Dawson  and  said, 
more  composedly:  "Richard,  I  think  as  you 
[119] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

do,  yet  it  doesn't  seem  right;  but  I  can't  tell 
what  is  wrong.  If  he  produces  gold  at  will, 
and  we  knew  how  he  did  it,  we'd  still  have  to 
sell  our  bonds.  It  is  better  to  prepare  for  the 
worst  now.  Begin  at  once.  Sell  those  that  are 
in  my  box,  here.  You  have  the  list.  Tell 
Thompson  to  bring  you  the  list  of  those  in 
the  safety  vault  at  the  office." 

'*  Yes, "  said  Dawson,  with  less  relief  in  his 
voice  than  might  have  been  expected.  "  We'll 
have  to  be  very  careful.  The  market 
won't  —  " 

"This  is  no  time  to  think  of  eighths  and 
quarters,"  said  Mellen  with  decision.  "If 
we  are  right,  of  what  use  are  our  bonds  ?  If 
we  are  making  a  mistake — "  He  hesitated. 
Doubt  again  showed  in  his  face.  Dawson 
hastened  to  speak : 

"If  we  could  be  perfectly  sure  he's  not 
going  to — " 

Mellen's  doubts  and  convictions  came  and 
[120] 


THE  GOLD 

went  like  irregular  pulse-beats  —  he  had 
been  disturbed  to  his  very  depths,  and  his 
mind  did  not  work  with  its  normal  precis 
ion.  He  became  calm  again,  and  he  spoke 
with  quiet  decision :  "  This  young  man  means 
well.  That  is  what  makes  him  dangerous. 
He  will  flood  the  world  with  gold,  and  think 
he  is  doing  good.  Yes.  Sell  the  bonds. " 

"Very  well,"  Dawson  sighed.  It  came 
easier  to  him  to  believe  the  worst;  he  had 
seen  more  of  Grinnell.  But  he  knew  the 
bonds  would  have  to  be  sold  at  grievous 
sacrifices. 

"  It's  the  only  thing  we  can  do, "  the  rich 
est  man  said,  almost  consolingly;  he  knew 
Dawson's  thoughts.  "But,"  he  added,  "you 
must  keep  on  trying  to  find  out  where  he  gets 
the  gold.  Send  Costello  to  me.  And  you  must 
buy  stocks." 

Bonds  are  payable,  principal  and  interest, 
in  gold  coin  of  the  present  standard  of  weight 
[121] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

and  fineness.  If  GrinneH's  operations  made 
gold  as  cheap  as  pig-iron,  each  $l,000-bond 
would  be  worth  fifty  ounces  of  iron,  and  no 
more.  If  some  other  metal  took  the  place 
of  gold,  the  corporations  would  take  pains  to 
be  paid  in  the  new  coin,  whatever  that  might 
be,  and  they  would  pay  dividends  on  their 
stocks  in  the  same.  But  the  interest  on  bonds 
they  must  pay  in  gold.  Bondholders  would 
be  ruined,  and  stockholders  would  profit  by 
the  others*  losses.  All  this  Dawson  and  Mel- 
len  had  realized  on  their  first  interview;  it 
was  perfectly  obvious.  The  president  of  the 
Metropolitan  National  Bank  merely  had 
wished  the  richest  man  in  the  world  to  be  as 
certain  of  the  existence  of  the  Grinnell  gold- 
factory  as  he  himself  had  become,  before 
selling  bonds  and  buying  stocks. 

"Which  stocks?"  asked  Dawson. 

The  richest  man  in  the  world  did  not  an 
swer.  He  was  looking  at  Dawson,  medita- 
[122] 


THE  GOLD 

lively.  At  length,  he  said,  musingly:  "If  he 
dies?  And  if  his  sister  dies?  'After  us,  the 
deluge!9  he  said.  The  danger  lies  in  that 
man's  secret  becoming  known.  Yes.  We 
have  no  time  to  lose." 

In  winning  his  fabulous  fortune,  the  rich 
est  man  in  the  world  had  gambled  stupen 
dously.  His  stakes  had  been  hundreds  of 
fortunes,  thousands  of  lives.  But  after  the 
first  hundred  millions  he  always  had  gam 
bled  calmly  —  he  had  grown  to  think  he  was 
doing  his  duty,  and  that  Providence,  whose 
confidential  servant  he  was,  had  dealt  cards 
marked  for  his  benefit.  What  had  unnerved 
him  was  the  sudden  realization  that  his  fi 
nancial  life  hung  by  a  thread.  The  armour 
in  which  thirty  years  of  success  had  encased 
him  had  been  broken.  It  had  fallen  from 
him.  He  had  acted  as  he  might  have  acted 
at  the  time  when  he  was  not  the  richest  man 
in  the  world. 

[123] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

He  went  to  the  president's  desk  and  wrote 
out  a  long  list  —  all  stocks  of  steam  and 
street  railroads,  gas  companies,  and  indus 
trial  concerns.  His  writing  was  very  even, 
and  the  letters  were  small,  but  the  figures 
were  very  plain. 

"It's  only  a  question  of  time,"  he  told 
Dawson,  as  he  finished,  "when  Grinnell's 
gold  process  will  be  known  to  the  world." 
He  rose,  and  seeing  the  president's  serious 
look,  he  said,  with  an  air  of  conscious  jocu 
larity  (for  he  did  not  jest  often,  and  when  he 
did  he  had  to  announce  it  beforehand,  with 
his  face,  that  there  might  be  no  misunder 
standing)  :  "  Cheer  up,  Richard.  The  worst 
is  still  to  come!" 


[124] 


PART  III :  THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 


WALL  STREET  was  suffering  from  its 
worst  disease  —  dullness.  The  public  —  the 
only  genuine  octopus  —  did  not  find  the 
menu  printed  on  the  ticker-tape  at  all  appe 
tizing.  It  was  hard  at  work  in  its  office,  miles 
away  from  the  Stock  Exchange,  out  of  hear 
ing  of  the  ticker,  scanning  the  financial  pages 
of  the  newspapers  only  on  the  street-cars  to 
pass  away  an  irksome  half-hour.  Months  be 
fore,  the  fumes  of  the  wine  of  gambling  had 
gone  to  its  head ;  and  then  the  public  had  been 
made  sober  suddenly  by  the  "shrinkage  in 
quoted  values,"  otherwise  the  shearing. 
Since  then  the  public  had  grown  a  new 
fleece,  though  it  was  not  yet  itself  aware  of  it. 
It  was  a  delicate  task,  before  the  president 
of  the  Metropolitan  National  Bank.  He  was 
[  127] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

a  resourceful  stock-market  manipulator, 
though  he  would  have  resented  being  called 
a  thief  not  half  so  hotly  as  being  called  a 
speculator,  because  that  sounded  worse  in  a 
bank  president.  He  desired  the  public  to  buy 
bonds;  not  necessarily  at  high  prices,  but  at 
any  prices.  It  was  purely  philanthropy  on 
the  face  of  it.  That  is  why  the  task  was  deli 
cate.  You  can  disarm  suspicion  if  you  are 
bad,  in  Wall  Street.  But,  if  you  are  good,  the 
hopelessness  of  it  is  appalling.  Moreover, 
there  was  no  time  for  finesse  or  subtle 
strategy  or  ingenious  experiments  with  the 
elemental  psychology  of  stock  gamblers.  The 
occasion  called  for  broadly-painted  effects. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  offer  bonds  to 
savings-banks  and  trustees  of  estates  all  over 
New  England  and  New  York,  at  conces 
sions  too  slight  to  arouse  suspicion,  but  sub 
stantial  enough  to  tempt  purchasers.  This 
through  the  best  bond  "drummers"  in  the 
1128] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

land.  Then  he  sought  the  Stock  Exchange. 

The  bond-market,  which  had  slumbered 
profoundly  for  months,  suddenly  awoke. 
Gilt-edged  issues  were  pressed  for  sale,  not 
violently  at  all,  but  insistently.  They  came 
from  many  sources,  the  Street  thought,  not 
knowing  the  full  contents  of  the  huge  strong 
box  of  the  richest  man  in  the  world.  The 
fortunes  of  the  ordinary  multi-millionaires 
grow  faster  in  the  newspapers  and  in  club- 
corners  than  in  reality.  This  fortune  was 
even  greater  than  the  gossip  of  it.  Mellen 
spent  time  in  making  people  look  at  his 
wealth  through  a  reversed  telescope,  that  it 
might  be  diminished  in  the  public's  estimate. 
That  is  all  he  had  ever  done  to  diminish  it, 
being  a  practical  man. 

The  bond  "specialists"  felt  faintly  alarm 
ed;  then  they  became  exultantly  busy.  It 
might  be  unwise  to  buy  stocks  the  future 
market-career  of  which  was  problematical; 
[129] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

but  everybody  knew  what  Pennsylvania 
Central  first  mortgage  fives  were.  Not  to 
buy  them  under  125  was  to  sin  regrettably. 
The  bonds  sold  at  122.  To  abstain  from  pur 
chasing  them  at  120  was  lunacy.  And  at  115 
passivity  became  a  crime  against  one's 
family.  Many  bought,  but  not  enough;  and 
because  the  supply  was  greater  than  the  de 
mand  the  price  shrank  further. 

The  Street  held  its  breath  and  waited  for 
stocks  to  follow.  But,  simultaneously  with 
the  sales  of  the  best  bonds  of  the  best  rail 
ways  in  the  United  States,  came  purchases 
of  the  stocks  of  the  same  railways,  and 
though  prices  of  bonds  declined,  stocks  did 
not.  The  Street  felt  that  to  "trade"  in  such  a 
market  was  like  playing  rouge-et-noir  in  an 
utterly  dark  room.  What  was  the  sense  of 
betting  on  the  black  if  the  bettor  could  not 
tell,  because  of  the  darkness,  whether  his 
chips  were  on  it  or  on  the  red  ? 
[130] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

The  newspapers,  being  puzzled,  printed 
dozens  of  columns  and  hundreds  of  explana 
tions,  all  of  them  highly  ingenious  and  uni 
formly  incorrect.  In  his  Monday  morning 
article,  Philip  King,  of  The  Sun,  compared 
the  bond-market  to  the  old  story  of  the  great 
psychologist  who,  dressed  as  a  pedlar,  offer 
ed  on  a  Broadway  sidewalk  to  sell  five-dollar 
gold-pieces,  warranted  genuine,  to  the  pass 
ers-by  at  $3.98.  Never  a  fool  so  foolish,  in 
the  passing  thousands,  as  to  shake  hands 
with  fortune  on  the  psychologist's  coin- 
laden  tray.  Now  they  would  not  buy 
bonds. 

Of  the  millions  of  dollars  of  bonds  that 
were  sold,  some  were  registered  in  the  name 
of  William  Mellen  or  Richard  Dawson,  or 
of  known  stool-pigeons  —  clerks  in  their 
offices,  etc.  This  became  known  in  the  end, 
though  Dawson  delayed  the  inevitable  as 
long  as  possible.  Then,  of  course,  the  mys- 
[131] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

tery  was  solved:  The  "Fort  Dawson"  crowd 
was  selling  bonds  and  buying  stocks!  The 
country  was  prosperous.  There  was  no  cloud 
in  the  financial  sky.  Obviously,  the  greatest 
capitalists  in  the  United  States  were  engi 
neering  a  gigantic  stock  boom! 

The  Evening  Scold,  the  greatest  journal 
istic  exponent  of  the  Undoubted  Wisdom  of 
the  Sneer,  promptly  filled  itself  with  wrath 
and  editorialized  its  feelings,  as  follows : 

The  abnormal  increase  in  the  cash  resources  of  the 
New  York  banks  during  the  past  few  weeks,  was  too 
good  an  opportunity  for  certain  bank  presidents  and 
their  pals  to  neglect.  The  banks  are  not  in  Wall  Street  to 
safeguard  the  interests  and  the  cash  of  their  depositors, 
but  obviously  to  help  the  directors  and  their  schemes. 
In  this  instance,  the  overgrown  arrogance  of  the  latest 
stock-market  millionaires  has  degenerated  into  imbe 
cility,  induced  by  protracted  success  in  their  despoil 
ment  of  the  public.  Fortunately,  it  should  prove  the  un 
doing  of  the  financial  Condottieri,  for  the  stupid  public 
[132] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

surely  cannot  be  stupid  enough  to  permit  itself  to  be 
hypnotized  into  paying  absurd  prices  for  brazenly  man 
ipulated  insecurities  like  Transcontinental  Air  Line  or 
Great  Southern  Preferred,  or  into  sacrificing  gilt-edged 
bonds.  Let  the  would-be  buyer  of  stocks,  and  the  would- 
be  seller  of  bonds,  beware! 

But,  after  all,  it  was  on  y  the  very  wise  — 
Messrs.  Dawson  and  Mellen  —  who  bought 
stocks.  Only  a  few  foolish  lambs  sold  stocks 
at  the  high  prices  and  bought  bonds  at  the 
low!  Also  some  of  the  alert-eyed  men  over 
whose  office  doors  were  foreign  names 
ending  in  "STEIN,"  and  "BAUM,"  and 
"BERG,"  and  "MANN."  The  fools  in  their 
folly,  and  the  shrewd  in  their  shrewd 
ness,  were  helping  the  richest  man  in  the 
world,  and  the  ablest  bank  president  in  the 
United  States,  during  those  stirring  days  in 
Wall  Street  —  shivering  days  when  a  great 
crash  in  the  stock-market  was  expected  mo 
mentarily  by  so  many  that  it  did  not  come. 
[133] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

The  expected  never  happens  in  Wall  Street. 
It  can't  afford  to. 

"  How  do  we  stand,  Richard  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Mellen,  as  he  walked  into  the  president's 
office. 

"Almost  there,"  answered  Dawson.  "I 
have  sold  most  of  your  semi-speculative  is 
sues,  and  we  are  working  off  the  last  better 
than  I  expected.  You  got  the  memorandum 
of  stocks  bought  to-day?" 

Mellen  nodded.  Then  he  walked  to  the 
busy  ticker  in  the  corner,  and  regarded  the 
tape. 

"The  newspapers  have  warned  the  public 
against  buying  inflated  stocks,  or  selling 
bonds  at  unreasonably  low  prices.  A  free 
press,  Richard,  is  the  best  safeguard  of  the 
liberties  of  a  nation.  We  should  be  grateful 
for  this  boon. "  There  was  a  trace  of  nervous 
ness  about  his  manner;  but  it  was  a  nerv 
ousness  as  of  relief  rather  than  uneasiness. 
[134] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

Mr.  Dawson  laughed  admiringly,  and  ap 
proached  his  friend. 

"Yes.  I've  sold  them  impartially  all  over 
New  England,  here,  and  in  London  and  Ber 
lin.  But  the  Governments  —  ' 

"  Never  mind  those.  The  Government  will 
make  good,  somehow.  We'll  keep  them  to 
give  us  the  right  to  agitate  the  matter  later 
on.  I  am  going  to  tell  my  brother  George.  I 
told  him  to  come  here  to-day  at  —  How  do 
you  do,  George;  I  was  just  talking  about 
you." 

George  B.  Mellen,  who  had  entered,  was  a 
strongly-built  man,  white-haired  and  clean 
shaven.  His  eyes  were  of  a  clean,  turquoise 
blue,  that  contrasted  pleasantly  with  the 
white  of  his  eyebrows.  He  was  the  vice- 
president  of  the  International  Distributing 
Syndicate,  and  at  least  the  sixth  richest  man 
in  the  world.  He  nodded  to  his  brother,  and 
shook  hands  with  Dawson,  who  managed  to 
[135] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

convey  the  impression  that  he  had  risen  in 
order  to  greet  affectionately  the  new-comer. 
That  having  been  done,  the  president  re 
turned  to  his  desk. 

"George,"  said  Mellen  looking  up  from 
the  ticker,  "I've  sold  every  bond  I  owned; 
or  will  have  sold  the  last  this  afternoon. "  He 
resumed  his  scrutiny  of  the  tape,  very  calmly, 

"Wh-a-at?"  said  his  brother. 

"No  obligations  payable  in  gold  will  be 
worth  anything  in  a  short  time.  There's  a 
man  who  has  discovered  the  secret  of  making 
gold.  And  he's  making  it."  He  said  it  in  an 
utterly  unexcited  voice. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  said 
George  with  an  indecisive  smile.  His  brother 
was  bent  over  the  glass  dome  of  the  ticker, 
and  George,  still  smiling  indecisively,  looked 
at  Dawson. 

An  office-boy  entered  with  a  note  which  he 
gave  to  the  president.  Dawson,  as  he  saw 
[136] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

the  lad  coming,  instinctively  picked  up  a 
dagger-like  paper-cutter  from  his  desk.  But 
when  he  glanced  at  the  handwriting,  tore 
open  the  envelope  with  his  fingers  hurriedly, 
and  read  the  slip  it  contained.  He  rose  and 
gave  the  paper  to  William  Mellen,  saying: 

"That  is  the  last  of  the  bonds.  They 
slaughtered  prices,  didn't  they?  But,"  with 
a  jovially  apologetic  smile,  "it  was  the  best 
that  could  be  done. " 

Mellen  read  the  memorandum  of  the  bond 
sales  and  the  prices  received. 

"  Why,  Richard, "  he  said  it  with  a  sort  of 
polite  regret  that  ended  with  a  gentle  sigh, 
"I  should  say  they  did  slaughter  them.  It's 
a  loss  of  about  two  millions  on  this  lot, 
from  last  week's  prices. "  He  shook  his  head 
several  times  as  in  sorrow  over  a  fellow- 
Christian  gone  wrong:  The  stock-market 
had  sinned.  Then  he  studied  the  busy  ticker 
once  more. 

[137] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"William,  will  you  kindly  explain  this 
farce?"  There  was  no  sigh  to  George  Mel- 
len's  voice  as  he  asked  this.  His  frown  was 
deep. 

"  George,  I'm  not  a  fool,  am  I  ?"  asked  the 
richest  man  in  the  world,  very  earnestly.  He 
must  be  patient.  It  was  his  duty;  and  duty 
should  be  everything  to  a  man  who,  his 
friends  thought,  believed  that  the  eyes  of 
Providence  were  fixed  unblinkingly  on  the 
centre  of  his  soul. 

"Just  now,  I  should  say  —  ' 

"Well,  just  now,  I  certainly  am  not  one. 
I've  sold  out  all  my  bonds  and  bought  stocks. 
Yes,  George.  That, "  gently,  "  is  what  I  have 
done." 

"  And  I've  done  nothing  all  week  but  buy 
bonds  and  sell  stocks!"  George's  eyes  took 
on  a  curious  expression  —  the  blue  in  them 
seemed  to  grow  strangely  darker  as  he  half- 
closed  his  eyelids.  Often  the  brothers  dis- 
[138] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

agreed.  William  was  the  abler.  But  George 
was  the  older;  and  he  could  not  forget  the 
days  when  he  lorded  it  over  his  slender 
brother  by  physical  might. 

"You  probably  bought  my  bonds,  and  I 
bought  your  stocks,"  said  William,  nodding 
as  if  solving  a  puzzle  the  solution  of  which 
called  for  no  exultation.  "  I  am  sorry,  George. 
But  you  must  at  once  sell  the  bonds  and  buy 
stocks. " 

"Explain,  hang  you;  explain!"  shouted 
George  Mellen  angrily. 

"George,  keep  cool.  Richard,  will  you 
kindly  tell  brother  George  all  about  Grin- 
nell?"  He  looked  at  the  ticker  with  an  ex 
aggerated  air  of  attention,  to  save  further 
explanations. 

George  looked  from  his  brother  to  the 
bank  president,  and  back  to  his  brother. 

"William,"  he  said  at  length,  quietly. 
William  did  not  look  up  from  the  ticker.  It 
[139] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

made  George  Mellen  angry  and  he  said  im 
periously:  "William,  listen  to  me!  There 
may  be  a  good  reason  why  you  have  sold 
out  all  your  bonds.  But  there  is  none  why 
you  should  not  have  told  me  before.  Why 
didn't  you?" 

"I  never  thought  about  it,"  answered 
William  simply.  There  was  a  mild  aston 
ishment  on  his  face,  as  if  at  his  own  forget- 
fulness  of  his  brother's  interest. 

"You  didn't,  either,  Dawson,  did  you?" 
said  George  coldly. 

"My  dear  George,  I  certainly  thought 
William  was  selling  for  both  of  you.  He  al 
ways  does,  you  know,"  said  Dawson. 

"Oh,  have  it  that  way,  George;  have  it 
that  way  if  it  will  please  you. "  Then  to  Daw- 
son:  "Sell  George's  bonds,  lump  results  and 
strike  an  average,"  said  William  Mellen 
resignedly.  Then,  with  sudden  irritation: 
"It's  a  case  of  life  and  death,  not  of  a  few 
[140] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

dollars. "  He  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
office,  lost  in  thought.  Mechanically  he  took 
a  small  pad  from  the  elaborately  carved  ma 
hogany  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  walk 
ed  to  an  arm-chair  by  the  farthest  window, 
sat  down  and  presently  began  to  jot  down 
figures  with  a  lead-pencil,  while  Dawson  told 
to  George  B.  Mellen  the  story  of  Grinnell. 

"But  the  thing  is  impossible,"  said 
George  angrily. 

"Absolutely!"  assented  the  bank  presi 
dent,  almost  amiably.  'You  are  right, 
George. "  He  looked  at  George  with  a  subtle 
felicitation  in  his  eyes  —  at  George's  intel 
lect.  "  But, "  he  went  on  gently,  "  everything 
you  think  we've  already  thought.  We  didn't 
go  off  at  half-cock,  George.  It  took  facts  to 
convince  us.  We  know  that  the  man  can  and 
probably  will  flood  the  world  with  gold.  I 
have  no  doubt  of  it.  Neither  has  William. 
Now,  give  me  the  list  of  your  bonds  and  —  J: 
[141] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"And  I  thought  I  was  getting  bargains," 
said  George  Mellen  bitterly.  "  I  might  have 
known  William's  hand  was  in  it.  I  thought 
people  had  gone  crazy,  and  were  being  pre 
pared  for  a  grand  boom,  manufactured  on 
the  premises!  I  tell  you,"  he  exploded  sud 
denly,  "there's  a  trick  somewhere!" 

William  Mellen  looked  up  suddenly,  and 
stared  uncomprehendingly  at  his  brother,  his 
mind  still  on  his  figures  and  calculations. 

"No,"  went  on  George,  "I  don't  mean 
you.  I  mean  in  this  Grinnell  affair. " 

"He  has  on  deposit  in  this  bank  some 
forty  millions,  and  about  eight  or  ten  more 
with  other  banks. " 

"That's  the  mystery,"  said  George  mu 
singly.  His  eyes,  as  he  thought,  took  on  a 
straining  look,  as  you  see  near-sighted  peo 
ple  look  when  they  try,  without  their  glasses, 
to  read  printed  characters  twenty  feet  dis 
tant,  in  an  optician's  shop. 

1142] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

"I'd  make  haste,  George,"  interrupted 
William  Mellen.  "When  you  have  sold  out 
all  your  bonds  I  will  tell  you  a  plan.  The 
world  will  be  told  of  the  Grinnell  affair, 
and--  " 

"You  mean  ?"  said  Dawson,  with  a  quick 
start. 

"After  we  have  nothing  to  lose  we  have 
everything  to  gain. " 

"  But  it  will  —  '  began  Dawson  ex 
citedly. 

"Don't  guess,  Richard,"  gently.  "You 
don't  know  the  details  of  my  plan. " 

George  knew  his  brother.  He  said  grimly : 
"The  public  doesn't  love  the  International 
Distributing  Syndicate;  nor  us." 

"They'll  love  Grinnell  less.  We  are  his 
victims,  too;  don't  you  see?  That  will  com 
fort  the  public.  Bloated  bondholder  will  be  a 
synonym  for  pauper.  They'll  pity  us."  He 
said  this  with  gentle  dolefulness. 
[143] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"William,  but  our  friends?  They'll  be 
ruined,"  said  George  Mellen  doubtfully.  He 
knew  his  brother. 

"  You  can  tell  yours  to  sell  out  —  after 
you  have  sold  out,  not  before;  and  give  no 
reasons  to  them,  or  —  "  His  eyes,  for  the 
fraction  of  a  second,  were  menacing;  he  did 
not  finish  the  threat  orally.  George  frowned ; 
but  he  also  checked  the  words  that  he  would 
have  uttered. 

''You'll  have  my  list  in  fifteen  minutes," 
George  told  Dawson.  "Willie  will  bring  it 
over.  Good-bye,"  and  without  another  look 
at  either  of  the  two  men  he  left  the  room. 

"  George  is  —  ah  —  '  began  Dawson, 
with  a  conciliatory  smile. 

"He  always  was,"  interrupted  William 
Mellen,  not  unpleasantly;  "from  his  boy 
hood  up. " 

"The  public  will  have  more  bargains  in 
bonds, "  said  Dawson. 

[144] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

"Yes. "  The  richest  man  in  the  world 
smiled  and  went  on  musingly:  "The  pub 
lic  is  very  wise.  It  is  selling  out  its  stocks 
because  they  are  too  high,  and  buying 
bonds  because  they  pay  in  gold.  Now,  my 
plan--" 

Williams  entered.  The  president  frowned, 
and  stabbed  the  assistant  cashier  through 
the  heart  with  a  stiletto  made  of  a  vocal  ici 
cle:  "I  am  engaged,  sir." 

"  It's  —  it's  Mr.  Grinnell,  sir.  He  insisted 
upon  seeing  you.  And,  I  think,  sir,  you  told 
me  that  if  he  —  ' 

"Why  didn't  you  show  him  in  at  once?" 
The  vocal  stiletto  was  of  steel,  and  white  hot. 
The  timorous  assistant  cashier  left  as  though 
a  stupendous  draught  of  air  had  sucked  him 
out  of  the  room  through  the  door.  The  presi 
dent  arose  and  greeted  Grinnell. 

"Walk  in,  Mr.  Grinnell,"  he  said,  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

[145] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Dawson.  How  do 
you  do,  Mr.  Mellen?"  said  Grinnell  cheer 
fully.  Mr.  Mellen  waved  his  hand  in  ami 
cable  salutation.  It  was  the  first  time  that 
ever  Mr.  Dawson  had  seen  Mellen  indulge  in 
such  jovial  friendliness. 

"Quite  exciting  times  lately  in  Wall 
Street?"  said  Grinnell  interrogatively,  but 
obviously  to  make  talk.  "The  people  are  go 
ing  stock-mad.  I  suppose  there  will  be  a 
smash. " 

"  It  is  more  than  likely, "  assented  Mellen 
gravely.  Had  not  Mr.  Dawson  been  a  bank 
president,  with  a  professional  lack  of  the 
sense  of  humour,  he  would  have  winked  sur 
reptitiously  at  his  friend. 

"  Well,  if  it  is  only  the  stock  gamblers  who 
suffer,  I  won't  worry.  But,  possibly,  small  in 
vestors  may  become  frightened  by  the  de 
cline  in  bonds  and  sell  out.  They  would  be 
foolish,  of  course.  But  I  have  sympathy  for 
[146] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

foolish  people;  a  fellow-feeling,  I  suppose." 
He  smiled.  Then,  seriously:  "Why,  do  you 
suppose,  there's  been  such  a  slump  in 
bonds?" 

"  More  sellers  than  buyers, "  said  Dawson, 
with  a  tentative  grin. 

"  Ah ! "  The  young  man  smiled  at  the  time- 
worn  Wall  Street  phrase ;  he  had  not  heard  it 
before.  "But  I  think  bonds  are  pretty 
cheap,"  he  persisted. 

"They  certainly  look  so,"  assented  Daw- 
son. 

"They  certainly  do,"  echoed  Mellen 
gravely. 

"  That  means  you  are  buying  them, "  said 
the  young  man  with  a  sort  of  naive  astute 
ness.  Whereupon  Dawson  and  Mellen  con 
gratulated  themselves  with  glances.  Grinnell 
went  on:  "I  feel  like  doing  the  same  thing. 
However,  what  I  came  to  see  you  about  is 
this :  I  promised  not  to  deposit  any  more  gold 
[147] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

for  a  month  in  any  bank  in  New  York,  didn't 
I?" 

"In  the  United  States,"  said  Mellen 
quickly. 

"I  don't  think  I  promised  that,  but  I'll  let 
it  go  at  that.  My  promise  certainly  did  not 
extend  to  banks  in  Europe. " 

"As  to  Europe,"  said  Dawson  with  a 
shake  of  his  head,  "I  took  it  for  granted 
that--  " 

"Never  mind  Europe,"  interrupted  Mel 
len  with  a  benevolent  air.  "  Are  you  going  to 
ship  any  gold  across  the  ocean,  Mr.  Grin- 
nell?" 

"I've  suspended  my  gold  operations  en 
tirely,  as  I  promised.  That  is,  I  won't  ship 
any  new  gold.  But  you  wouldn't  object 
to  my  drawing  out  some  of  the  gold  I  have 
here  and  in  other  New  York  banks,  I  sup 
pose?" 

"Why  —  '     began    Dawson    dubiously. 
[148] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

He    could    not    tell   what    this   new  move 
meant. 

"  Certainly  not, "  said  William  Mellen  de 
cisively.  He  sided  with  Grinnell,  of  whom, 
Grinnell  must  see,  he  thought  highly. 

"Of  course  not,"  echoed  Dawson  cor 
dially,  with  an  air  of  primal  authority.  To 
show  it  was  his  own  decision,  he  added : "  We 
should  be  delighted." 

"I  may  draw  on  you  soon,"  said  Grin 
nell. 

"We  can  sell  you  drafts  on  any  part  of 
Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  Australia,  South  Am 
erica,  and  the  Philippines,"  Dawson  told 
him,  smiling. 

"  I'll  think  it  over, "  Grinnell  said  serious-  ,. 
ly.  "It  won't  prevent  me  from  depositing 
more  gold  when  my  time  is  up  ?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Dawson  jovially. 

"How  much  will  you  deposit?"  asked 
Mellen  casually. 

[149] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"Not  much;"  the  young  man  smiled. 

"No,"  said  Dawson,  with  playful  sarcasm 
"not  much;  about  a  million  a  minute." 

"You'd  object  to  a  million  a  day,"  Grin- 
nell  shook  his  head  dolefully. 

"  He  would  not  object  to  that, "  interjected 
the  richest  man  in  the  world,  "if  he  knew 
how  many  days  you  would  keep  it  up." 
There  was  no  playfulness  in  his  voice,  though 
he  tried  to  speak  in  an  easy,  conversational 
tone. 

"Well,"  began  Grinnell  doubtfully.  He 
went  on  quickly:  "Oh,  yes,  he'd  object  be 
fore  the  end  of  the  first  week.  I  know  him. " 
He  nodded  toward  the  bank  president  with  a 
boyishly  mischievous  air.  Dawson  tried  to 
smile  back;  he  said: 

"  I'm  getting  to  know  you,  too.  I  am  going 
to  be  more  generous  in  the  future. " 

"  Good ! "  said  Grinnell ;  he  would  take  the 
president  at  his  word  when  his  month  was 
[150] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

up.  "Now,  if  I  should  want  drafts  on  Lon 
don  and  Paris  in  a  day  or  two  —  ' 

"  Mr.  Williams  will  be  at  your  service,  at 
any  time,"  the  president  assured  him,  as 
though  Mr.  Grinnell  were  an  ordinary  depos 
itor  transacting  ordinary  business.  "No  no 
tice  is  required  in  this  bank, "  with  a  curious 
suggestion  of  bravado.  He  pushed  one  of 
a  row  of  electric  buttons  on  his  desk.  The 
assistant  cashier,  his  fat  face  distorted 
dismally  into  an  anticipatory  excuse,  ap 
peared. 

"  Mr.  Williams,  Mr.  Grinnell  may  call  on 
us  for  drafts  on  Europe.  You  will  place  your 
self  at  his  disposal,  and  give  him  your  very 
best  efforts  at  all  times. " 

"  Certainly,  sir, "  said  the  assistant  cashier, 
with  a  hasty  deference.  "Very  glad  to  do 
what  I  can,  Mr.  Grinnell,"  he  said,  in  a 
grateful  voice,  to  the  young  man. 

"That  is  all,"  said  the  president.  The 
[151] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

assistant  cashier  apologized  facially,  and  left 
the  room. 

Grinnell  rose  to  go.  "  Good-morning,  Mr. 
Dawson.  I'll  be  around  when  my  month  is 
up." 

"You  are  not  doing  time,  Mr.  Grinnell," 
smiled  the  president. 

"  I  feel  like  it.  I  don't  like  idleness.  Good- 
morning.  " 

He  didn't  like  idleness !  He  would  resume 
the  manufacture  of  gold!  Given  rope,  the 
young  man  would  hang  himself  and  the 
bond-holding  public.  But  Dawson  now  had 
no  bonds.  When  the  discovery  came,  the  com 
munity  would  be  convulsed.  The  bank  was 
fortifying  itself  with  legal  tender  notes.  Gold 
would  have  but  little  value  when  the  crash 
came.  There  were  various  points  to  study. 
In  the  entire  affair  there  was  but  one  danger. 
The  president  voiced  it. 

"  William, "  he  said,  "  after  the  cat's  out  of 
[152] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

the  bag,  what's  to  hinder  Grinnell,  out  of 
pure  philanthropy,  from  stopping  his  pro 
duction  of  gold  in  order  to  avert  a  disastrous 
world  panic?" 

"  I've  thought  of  that, "  answered  the  rich 
est  man  in  the  world,  with  a  calmness  that 
came  from  previous  meditation  and  settled 
conviction.  "He's  quite  likely  to  cease  his 
operations  in  new  gold,  as  he  calls  them.  But 
not  before  there  has  been  a  crash,  Richard. 
And  we  will  then  be  his  principal  advis 
ers.  I  feel  he  will  keep  on  until  the  mis 
chief  is  done.  We  are  prepared  now.  And 
yet,  somehow  —  '  His  face  clouded  with 
doubt. 

George  Mellen  entered  hurriedly.  "Here, 
Richard,  here  are  my  bonds."  The  presi 
dent  looked  at  the  long  list.  "Those  I've 
marked  with  a  cross  I've  already  ordered 
sold.  Meighan  &  Cross,  and  W.  A.  Shaw  & 
Co.  are  practically  giving  them  away  at  this 
[153] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

moment,"  finished   George  Mellen,  with  a 
touch  of  bitterness. 

William  Mellen  approached  the  ticker, 
and  passed  the  tape  through  his  fingers  with 
a  deftness  that  betrayed  practice. 

"I  think  you  are  right,"  he  said  softly. 
"  Green  River  general  4s,  87!" 

"I  should  think  the  insurance  companies 
—  "  began  George  Mellen. 

"Richard  has  already  sold  them  all  they 
can  take,"  returned  his  brother  kindly,  as 
though  he  were  anxious  to  please  brother 
George. 

"Also  the  savings-banks,  and  about  three 
hundred  estates, "  added  the  president,  with 
a  slight  touch  of  pride. 

"I'm  going  to  tell  Freer,  Morrison,  Stuy- 
vesant,  and  one  or  two  others,"  announced 
George  Mellen  with  a  trace  of  defiance.  He 
anticipated  opposition,  but  the  richest  man 
in  the  world  said: 

[154] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

"  I  should  tell  them  this  much  only :  That 
for  certain  reasons  you  cannot  divulge,  you 
are  selling  out  your  bonds,  and  that  I've  al 
ready  sold  mine. " 

"The  last  is  unnecessary.  They'd  guess  it 
without  my  telling  them,"  and  George  Mel- 
len  left  the  room  abruptly.  Mr.  Dawson  be 
gan  to  write  selling  orders,  copying  the 
names  of  the  bonds  from  the  list  before  him. 
Then  he  summoned  his  trusty  brokers  and 
bond  specialists,  and  gave  them  the  orders, 
exhorting  them  to  use  caution;  also  much 
haste. 

Under  the  new  selling  pressure  the  market 
acted  crazily.  The  inexplicable  declines  in 
bond  prices  of  that  memorable  week  had 
brought  into  Wall  Street  deluded  "bargain 
hunters,"  who  bought  the  securities  at  "ri 
diculously  low  figures,"  but,  values  went 
still  lower,  until  the  bonds  were  so  very  cheap 
that  they  were  dear  —  too  dear  for  people  to 
[155] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

buy  who  did  not  know  why  they  should  be 
so  cheap.  Therefore,  the  speculators  in 
bonds,  who  had  bought,  now  sold  at  a  loss, 
thereby  adding  to  the  general  uncertainty. 
But  as  some  sold,  others  bought,  and  quota 
tions  of  gilt-edged  issues,  usually  so  staid  and 
slow  of  movement,  fluctuated  as  violently  as, 
in  other  times,  the  manipulated  and  highly 
speculative  stocks  had  been  wont  to  do.  On 
the  whole,  the  public  bought  more  bonds 
than  it  sold,  and  sold  more  stocks  than  it 
bought.  Yet,  bonds  fell,  and  fell,  and  stocks 
rose  and  rose.  And  there  still  remained  the 
pet  investments  of  George  B.  Mellen's  in 
timate  friends;  men  who,  jaccustomed  to 
risking  much  on  the  turn  of  the  wheel  of  the 
ticker,  yet  kept  a  portion  of  their  fortune  safe 
beyond  peradventure  by  buying  bonds  which 
were  unassailable  by  demagogues  and  so 
cialistic  legislatures,  unaffected  by  hard 
times  or  strikes,  or  crop  failures;  absolutely 
[156] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

safe  just  so  long  as  the  United  States  remain 
ed  a  nation  of  Americans  —  or,  until  such 
time  as  aerial  navigation  supplanted  steam 
railroads.  Also,  so  long  as  the  gold  basis  en 
dured,  and  no  longer  ! 

Grinnell  had  stopped  outside  and  spoken 
to  the  assistant  cashier. 

"I  think  I  should  like  to  have  a  sight 
draft  on  London  for  two  million  pounds 
sterling,  Mr.  Williams." 

The  assistant  cashier  opened  his  mouth. 
Remembering  what  the  president  had  said 
—  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  —  he  closed  it 
apologetically  and,  to  excuse  himself  said, 
very  quickly:  ''Certainly,  Mr.  Grinnell,  cer 
tainly.  "  He  busied  himself  with  the  expostu 
lating  head  of  the  bank's  foreign  exchange 
department.  It  was  an  extraordinary  trans 
action,  but  the  Metropolitan  was  an  extra 
ordinary  bank,  and  Mr.  Dawson  was  an 
extraordinary  man  when  vexed. 
[157] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

He  came  back  and  asked:  "Payable  to 
whom,  Mr.  Grinnell?" 

"To  my  order,  please." 

"Yes,  sir;  yes,  sir." 

The  bill  of  exchange  for  £2,000,000  was 
made  out  on  Waring  Bros.,  of  London,  in 
favour  of  George  K.  Grinnell.  Mr.  Williams 
handed  it  to  Grinnell  with  an  obsequious 
little  flourish  and  said,  "Thank  you,  Mr. 
Grinnell." 

"Thank  ?/ow,"  said  Grinnell  smiling. 
"  Good-morning. " 

Mr.  Williams  bowed  him  out. 

Grinnell  walked  briskly  up  Wall  Street 
to  the  Wolff  Building,  and  entered  the  office 
of  Wolff,  Herzog  &  Co. 

"I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Isaac  Herzog," 
he  told  a  spectacled,  middle-aged  man  who 
sat  by  a  little  table  near  the  gate  of  a  railing 
on  the  other  side  of  which  was  a  half-door  of 
ground  glass  marked  "  Private. " 
[158] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

The  gate-keeper,  incredibly  myopic,  peer 
ed  at  him  through  such  thick  lenses  that  his 
eyes  looked  unpleasantly  unnatural. 

"Vhat  ees  yoor  peezness,  pleaze?" 

"Tell  Mr.  Herzog  that  I  come  on  a  very 
important  matter. " 

"Ach!"  The  middle-aged  man  shrugged 
his  shoulders  with  a  sort  of  regretful  despair, 
and  then  shook  his  head.  Everybody  that 
came  there  always  came  on  very  important 
matters  —  including  book  agents  and  ped 
lars  disguised  as  gentlemen. 

"  I've  come  direct  from  Mr.  Richard  Daw- 
son,  president  of  the  Metropolitan  National 
Bank,  to  see  Mr.  Herzog.  Tell  him  that  —  ' 

"Pleaze  sit  down,"  he  opened  the  gate 
and  pointed  to  a  chair.  Grinnell  obeyed  and 
the  man  left.  Presently  he  returned. 

"Mr.  Herzog  vill  see  you,  sir,"  and  Grin 
nell  was  ushered  into  the  office  of  the  head  of 
the  firm,  for  Mr.  Wolff  had  been  dead  many 
[159] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

years,  and  his  son-in-law  and  partner  reign 
ed  in  his  stead  —  a  far  greater  king  of  fi 
nance. 

He  was  a  little  man,  white-haired  and  pa- 
triarchially  whiskered.  His  features  were  of 
a  pronounced  Jewish  type.  His  eyes  were 
alert  but  kindly  —  kindly  rather  than  mere 
ly  good-natured.  The  accumulated  wisdom 
of  five  thousand  years  was  in  this  Hebrew 
banker's  business  soul;  and  with  it  that  re 
spect  for  the  higher  Law  that  has  made 
Israel  endure  as  a  nation  through  the  march 
ing  centuries  while  other  races  have  risen, 
flourished,  and  disappeared,  blended  into  the 
composite  types  of  to-day. 

"  Good- afternoon,  sir.  Mr.  Dawson  sent 
you  ?"  asked  Mr.  Herzog,  with  a  strong  Ger 
man  accent.  He  knew  English  thoroughly, 
like  a  scholar  —  a  German  scholar. 

"He  didn't  send  me.  I--" 

''  You  have  been  admitted  under  that  im- 
[160] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

pression,"  Mr.  Herzog  said  this  sternly  —  a 
rebuke  for  a  falsehood  rather  than  irritation 
over  what  seemed  likely  to  be  the  wasting  of 
a  very  busy  banker's  valuable  time.  The 
young  man  before  him  did  not  look  shabby 
enough  to  be  a  professional  mendicant,  but 
there  was  something  deferential  about  his 
manner  that  might  mean  a  more  expensive 
appeal.  Amateurs  have  exaggerated  ideas. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Herzog.  I  told  your  man, 
when  he  thought  you  couldn't  or  wouldn't 
see  me,  that  I  came  from  Mr.  Dawson's 
office  to  see  you.  It's  true.  I  did  leave  him 
a  few  minutes  ago.  I  know  your  reputation, 
Mr.  Herzog,  and  I  have  come  to  you  be 
cause  I  am  in  need  of  help. " 

Mr.  Herzog  was  famous  as  a  philanthro 
pist.  He  maintained  at  his  own  expense  a 
sort  of  personal  charity  bureau  to  which 
applicants  for  help  were  referred,  that  he 
niight  give  much  but,  above  all,  that  he 
[161] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

might  give  intelligently.  He  spoke  to  the 
young  man  with  cold  austerity:  " I  beg  to  re 
fer  you  to  Mr.  Asiel,  room  82,  upstairs,  sir. 
He  will  investigate  your  case.  But  I  do  not 
like  the  way  in  which  you  have  gained  ad 
mission  to  this  office,  sir."  He  nodded  dis- 
missingly. 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Herzog,"  said  Grin- 
nell,  smiling.  "I  wish  your  help  in  a  busi 
ness  matter.  I  wish  to  buy  one  hundred  mil 
lion  dollars  of  the  best  railroad  bonds." 

A  spasm  of  alarm  contracted  Mr.  Her- 
zog's  face.  It  passed  and  he  said  soothingly, 
with  an  accent  more  Germanic  than  ever: 
"Why,  yes,  of  course.  Yes,  yes!  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  do  so.  I  will  ask  the  gentleman 
in  charge  of  our  bond  department  to  do  as 
you  wish.  He  is  a  very  nice  young  man;  a 
very  competent  young  man.  He  knows  all 
about  bonds.  Will  you  allow  me  to  go  after 
him  ?  I  shall  return  directly. " 
[162] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

Grinnell  laughed  out  and  out.  It  was  a 
laugh  unaffectedly  merry.  But  Mr.  Her- 
zog  turned  pale  and  breathed  a  bit 
quickly. 

The  young  man  drew  from  his  pocket- 
book  some  checks. 

"Here  are  four  certified  checks  for  one 
million  dollars  each,  and  a  draft  on  Waring 
Bros.,  of  London,  for  two  millions  sterling. 
Won't  you  please  look  at  them  before  you  go 
for  the  nice  young  man  in  charge  of  your 
bond  department?" 

Mr.  Herzog  instead  looked  at  the  door; 
the  young  man  barred  his  exit.  He  was  ata- 
vistically  a  fatalist.  What  was  to  be,  was  to 
be.  Mr.  Herzog,  calm  now  from  resignation, 
turned  to  the  checks.  One  look  was  enough. 
His  face  changed,  but  having  grown  resigned 
to  death,  the  banker  did  not  now  sigh  with 
relief.  He  merely  said,  very  quietly,  as  if  he 
were  resuming  the  thread  of  his  conversa- 
[163] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

tion :  "  Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  which  bonds 
you  wish  to  buy?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  before  I  tell  you  that,  let  me 
tell  you  this:  I  come  to  you  because  I  have 
absolute  confidence  in  your  wisdom  and  in 
the  integrity  of  your  firm.  I  wish  to  buy  a 
hundred  millions  of  bonds,  on  margin  —  a 
margin  of  fifty  per  cent  or  more.  None  must 
know  of  this  transaction  excepting  yourself 
and  those  of  your  partners  who  must,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  know  it.  I  require  no  pledge 
but  your  word." 

"It  is  all  the  pledge  we  ever  give,  sir.  It 
was  unnecessary  to  speak  of  it.  Neverthe 
less,  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence  in  us. 
Will  you  be  good  enough  to  proceed  ?" 

He  was  looking  at  the  young  man  steadily. 

"I  had  on  deposit  at  the  Metropolitan 

National  Bank  this  morning  some  forty-six 

millions  of  dollars,  of  which  I  have  drawn 

this    £2,000,000.    Also    with    other   banks 

[164] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

slightly  more  than  six  millions,  of  which 
those  are  four." 

Mr.  Herzog  nodded.  He  said  meditative 
ly:  "You  are,  then,  the  gentleman  to  whom 
those  institutions  owe  their  remarkable 
gains  in  gold  during  the  past  few  weeks?'* 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  am  or  not." 

"You  are,  sir." 

"Then  I  must  be." 

"  Pray  proceed." 

"Well,  I  propose  to  purchase  one  hun 
dred  millions  of  dollars  par  value  of  bonds, 
carefully  but  steadily.  Bonds  are  very 
cheap." 

"  Owing  to  circumstances  not  yet  known 
to  the  community,  or  possibly  to  a  misap 
prehension  of  certain  facts,  they  are  cheap. 
Huge  blocks  have  been  thrown  on  the  mar 
ket  this  past  week.  Prices  have  been  sacri 
ficed;  you  doubtless  know  by  whom?"  His 
eyes  interrogated  as  well  as  his  voice. 
[165] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"I  know  nothing.  I  think  the  bonds  are 
very  cheap,"  said  Grinnell  impassively. 

"I  think  so  too,  sir,  now.  I  had  begun  to 
fear  that  they  were  not  cheap,  at  any  price,  a 
few  minutes  ago." 

"Indeed?"  Grinnell  was  sincerely  as 
tonished. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Herzog  calmly. 

"I  will  give  you  a  check  or  checks  on  the 
Metropolitan  National  Bank  —  certified  if 
you  wish.  Is  fifty  millions  enough  mar 
gin?" 

"We  do  not  take  speculative  orders." 

"Then,  Mr.  Herzog,  I  can  only  wish  you 
good-morning,  and  request  that  you  men 
tion  this  to  no  one,"  and  Grinnell  rose. 

"In  this  case,"  said  Mr.  Herzog,  waving 
his  hand  and  pointing  to  the  chair  from 
which  the  young  man  had  risen,  "you  are 
conducting  a  financial  operation  unparallel 
ed  in  our  history.  If  you  care  to  have  us  as- 
[166] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

sociated  with  you  in  this  matter,  to  share 
proportionately  in  the  profits  — " 

"Thank  you.  We  shall  consider  that  later 
on.  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  see  bonds 
rise  to  the  level  at  which  they  were  before 
they  —  ah  — " 

"Before  the  misapprehension  to  which  I 
referred?"  prompted  Mr.  Herzog  gravely, 
but  with  intention. 

"Before  they  began  to  decline  so  inex 
plicably,"  corrected  Mr.  Grinnell  with  equal 
gravity.  "Bonds  are  selling  at  par  and  un 
der  which  should  command  a  great  pre 
mium." 

"Will  there  be  additional  deposits  of  gold 
by  you  at  the  Metropolitan  or  other  banks  ?" 

"I  have  not  deposited  any  gold  at  any 
bank,  Mr.  Herzog." 

"  I  mean  Assay  Office  checks,  sir." 

"That  is  a  matter,  Mr.  Herzog,  which  I 
must  decline  to  discuss." 
[167] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"Excuse  me,  sir.  I  did  not  know.'* 

"But  in  justice  to  you,  I  will  say  that  I 
have  pledged  myself  not  to  make  any  de 
posits  whatever  for  a  short  time." 

"Ah,  that  was  William  Mellen,"  said  Mr. 
Herzog  with  a  positiveness  that  startled 
Grinnell. 

"I  mentioned  no  names,  Mr.  Herzog." 

"No.  But  I  know  how  his  mind  works." 

"Now,  what  shall  I  do?  Shall  I  give  you 
a  check  on  the  Metropolitan  or  — " 

"By  drawing  bills  of  exchange  on  Lon 
don,"  said  the  old  banker  musingly,  "Mr. 
Dawson  will  not  know  for  some  days  what 
you  wish  the  money  for." 

"Well,  you  have  one  there  for  £2,000,000 
as  a  starter,"  said  the  young  man  calmly. 
Mr.  Herzog  looked  at  him  searchingly;  then 
he  smiled  approvingly. 

"Good!  I  see!" 

"Well,  sir?"  asked  Grinnell  quietly. 
[168] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

"  We  will  sell  bills  of  exchange  on  London, 
Berlin,  and  Paris  to  Mr.  Dawson's  bank. 
They  will  presently  buy  from  us,  thinking 
the  high  rates  of  exchange  tempt  us  to  sell 
them.  This  is  enough  for  this  week.  There 
are  still  the  bonds  of  the  friends  and  of  the 
friend's  friends  to  be  sold,  Mr.  — "  The 
old  man  paused.  "  I  do  not  know  your  name 
sir;  but  I  know  you.'9 

"My  name  is  Grinnell." 

"Thank  you.  Of  course,  it  was  on  the 
checks.  And,  if  I  may  ask,  sir,  what  is  your 
business,  besides  that  of  a  great  financier?" 

"I  am  a  metallurgical  chemist.'* 

"Chemist?"  The  old  banker  started.  He 
looked  at  Grinnell  intently.  The  young 
man's  face  was  impassive;  perhaps  too  im 
passive.  Mr.  Herzog  blinked  his  eyes;  not 
dubiously,  but  as  some  men  will  when  their 
thoughts  are  racing  at  a  furious  rate.  His 
head  was  bent  slightly  to  one  side  as  his 
[169] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

alert,  intelligent  eyes  looked  and  looked  at 
the  young  man  from  under  the  thick,  shaggy 
eyebrows  that  so  heightened  the  patriarchal 
aspect  of  his  face.  At  length  he  straightened 
his  little  body  up  as  though  he  were  on 
springs,  and  began  to  rub  his  hands  briskly. 
It  was  imagination  —  Oriental  imagination, 
more  vivid,  more  opulent  in  detail  than  the 
Occidental. 

"I  see!  I  see!  Good!"  He  arose  and,  un 
able  to  contain  himself,  extended  his  hand 
and  said:  "Mr.  Grinnell,  I  am  certain  you 
are  a  great  man.  I  am  proud  to  have  your 
confidence.  Bye-and-bye,  when  it  does  no 
harm,  you  will  tell  me  all,  and  I  shall  see  if  I 
am  right?" 

"  Some  day  we  shall  both  see  whether  we 
are  right  or  not,"  said  Grinnell  composedly. 
'Yes,  yes.  Now  answer  me:  Do  you  find 
that  great  wealth  is  also  a  great  tempta 
tion?" 

[170] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

"I  do  not,"  answered  Grinnell  frankly. 

"  There  are  many  things  you  would  not  do 
for  money  if  you  were  penniless,  much  less 
would  you  do  them,  having  fifty  or  a  hun 
dred  millions.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"There  are  many  things  I  should  like  to 
do  if  I  had  a  thousand  millions,"  said  Grin 
nell,  very  earnestly. 

"Precisely.  That's  what  you  told  them. 
Ah,  William  Mellen!  William  Mellen!"  and 
the  little  old  man  shook  his  head  and  raised 
his  hands  ceilingward,  as  though  he  saw  the 
richest  man  in  the  world  there  and  were 
apostrophizing  him.  "You  have  imagina 
tion,  but  only  one  pair  of  eyes.  I  see!" 

"You  know  him  ?"  Grinnell  asked. 

The  Hebrew  banker,  at  this  question,  in 
stantly  became  merely  a  banker.  He  said, 
briskly:  "If  bonds  are  too  low,  stocks  are 
too  high;  much  too  high.  It  would  be  well 
to  sell  some  to  those  wise  rich  men  who  wish 

4 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

to  buy  them;  for  the  public  is  not  buying 
stocks.  Only  the  rich  can  buy  —  and  suf 
fer,  it  may  be,  eh,  Mr.  Grinnell  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  join  you  in  such  an  op 
eration,  Mr.  Herzog." 

"Thank  you,  sir;  thank  you.  You  leave 
it  to  me?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Very  well.  It  is  possible  you  are  rich; 
but  it  is  certain  you/  are  wise,  Mr.  Grinnell. 
First,  we  shall  buy  bonds  for  you.  That  is 
the  investment  operation.  For  one  hundred 
millions  we  may  buy  one  hundred  and 
twenty  millions  par  value,  of  the  best  bonds 
in  the  world.  After  that  will  come  the  — 
ah  — "  He  paused  and  looked  at  Grinnell. 
The  young  man,  his  face  still  impassive, 
said: 

"  Yes,  sir.  If  you  wish  any  more  money  — " 

"  I  will  let  you  know,  Mr.  Grinnell.  Come 
every  morning  at  half  after  nine.  Please  let 
[172] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

me  have  your  name  and  address.  There  is 
much  I  should  like  to  ask  you ;  but  bye-and- 
bye,  you  will  tell  me  of  your  own  accord. 
And  your  lawyer  is  ?" 

"Col.  Gordon  McClintock.  You  know 
him?" 

"Yes.  I  shall  not  need  him.  Come  to 
morrow  morning.  There  is  much  to  do. 
Good-afternoon,  Mr.  Grinnell,"  and  Mr. 
Herzog  shook  hands  warmly  with  the  young 
man. 

It  happened  as  Mr.  Herzog  had  said.  The 
friends  of  the  Mellens's  were  told  in  the  strict 
est  confidence  to  sell  bonds  for  good  and  suf 
ficient  reasons.  They  told  their  friends,  also 
in  strict  confidence;  and  their  friends  told 
their  friends,  and  their  friends  their  friends, 
even  unto  the  fourth  and  fifth  generations, 
until  there  came  the  panic  of  the  millionaires, 
for  these  men,  in  the  nature  of  things,  had 
no  poor  friends.  Their  aggregate  sales  were 
[173] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

torrential,  appalling.  The  professionals  were 
too  frightened  to  buy  or  sell  anything,  unless 
it  was  life  insurance  policies  without  the 
suicide  clause. 

And  the  flood  of  fine  investment  issues 
rolled  resistlessly  over  the  corpses  of  little 
speculators  who  bought  them  one  day, 
thinking  them  incredibly  cheap,  only  to  see 
them  on  the  next  day  incredibly,  fatally 
cheaper,  because  the  rich  were  selling!  And 
the  insane  boom  in  stocks  waxed  greater, 
madder,  more  stupendous!  Because  the 
Mellens  were  buying ! 

It  could  not  continue  much  longer.  The 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury  came  to  New  York 
twice  that  week  to  confer  with  the  great 
financiers,  who  listened  intently  —  and  sug 
gested  nothing.  The  country  at  large  fixed 
its  eyes  on  Wall  Street  and  endeavoured  to 
see  clearly.  The  tide  must  turn.  The  public 
began  to  buy  bonds  outright  —  to  buy  a  few 

] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

bonds,  pay  for  them  and  then,  frightened  at 
its  own  temerity,  doubtful  of  having  after 
all  secured  bargains,  run  breathlessly  home 
and  lock  up  its  purchase,  and  not  look  at  the 
next  day's  quotations  for  fear  of  finding  that 
the  price  of  the  same  bonds  had  dropped 
farther. 

Still  the  public  had  begun  to  buy.  But 
not  before  Wolff,  Herzog  &  Co.  had  pur 
chased  for  $117,000,000  bonds  which  a 
month  before  could  not  have  been  purchased 
for  less  than  $143,000,000,  all  for  account  of 
Mr.  George  K.  Grinnell;  and  had  sold  short 
250,000  shares  of  stocks  at  an  average  price 
of  $190  per  share,  stocks  which  four  weeks 
previously  could  not  have  been  sold  at  $125 
per  share,  these  for  account  of  "Account 
G,"  which  included  equally  Mr.  George  K. 
Grinnell,  Wolff,  Herzog  &  Co.,  of  New  York; 
I.  Benjamin  &  Co.,  of  London;  Stetheim  & 
Sons,  of  Frankfort  and  Amsterdam,  and 
[175] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Goldschmidt  Freres,  of  Paris.  And  because  of 
these  operations  the  bond-market  steadied 
and  the  stock-market  ceased  to  advance, 
and  people  plucked  up  courage  and  bought 
bonds  and  sold  stocks,  until  bonds  began 
actually  to  rise  slowly  and  stocks  to  decline 
steadily  and  greater  courage  gained  there 
by.  And  because  the  public,  which  is  every 
body,  is  greater  than  anybody,  greater  even 
than  the  richest  man  in  the  world,  the  Para 
doxical  Panic  was  checked. 

There  came  a  lull.  After  all,  the  public 
had  but  ceased  to  fear  to  buy  bonds.  It  must 
be  made  to  fear  not  to  buy  them ;  for  bonds 
still  were  much  too  low  and  stocks  very 
much  too  high.  Wherefore,  the  Evening 
Scold,  which  had  been  importuning  Mr. 
Isaac  L.  Herzog  for  an  expression  of  his 
views,  was  at  last  able  to  publish  an  inter 
view,  double  leaded,  in  its  front  page,  in 
which  the  great  financier  strongly  urged  in- 
[176] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

vestors  not  to  sell  bonds  but  rather  to  buy. 
As  for  stocks,  it  was  not  wise  to  buy  them 
but  rather  to  sell.  Investors  need  not  be  anx 
ious  over  fundamental  business  conditions. 
Speculators,  on  the  other  hand,  had  before 
them  a  highly  dangerous  stock-market. 

It  was  the  first  and  only  interview  any 
newspaper  had  ever  been  able  to  obtain  for 
publication  from  Mr.  Herzog;  and  the  Eve 
ning  Scold  was  so  uniformly  ill-natured  and 
impartially  condemnatory  that  it  was  above 
suspicion.  It  was  ultra-Mugwump  in  politics, 
art,  literature,  finance,  and  base-ball.  The 
morning  papers  "verified"  the  interview  and 
reprinted  it  prominently  on  the  next  day. 
And  into  Wall  Street  poured  hordes  of  men, 
of  all  ages  and  political  complexions  —  Jew 
and  Gentile  —  of  all  degrees  of  fortune,  and 
of  no  fortune  at  all,  but  all  of  them  men  who 
believed  in  Mr.  Herzog's  integrity,  and  par 
ticularly  in  his  sagacity.  There  followed  a 
[177] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Great  Day.  Mostly,  the  public  bought  bonds. 
The  selling  pressure  really  was  over  by  now, 
the  enlightened  millionaires  being  practi 
cally  bondless;  so  bonds  rose  quickly,  un 
checked.  And  stocks  declined,  not  so  quick 
ly,  but  every  whit  as  steadily. 

Mellen  read  the  Herzog  interview  in  Daw- 
son's  office.  When  he  was  done  with  them, 
he  carefully  folded  the  newspapers  and  piled 
them  neatly  on  the  table.  It  was  an  unfail 
ing  habit  of  his  —  that  and  saving  the  twine 
that  came  with  parcels. 

He  arose,  with  a  troubled  expression  on 
his  face,  and  said  to  the  president : 

"  Herzog  is  a  very  able  man.  I  don't  like 
this  interview.  He  speaks  too  confidently." 
Into  Mellen's  eyes  came  the  puzzled,  indeci 
sive  look  which  Dawson  had  seen  there  so 
frequently  in  the  last  few  weeks,  and  so  sel 
dom  in  the  previous  twenty  years. 

"He  has  a  considerable  following,"  ad- 
[178] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

mitted  the  president  in  a  cheerful  voice,  as 
though  to  keep  his  friend  from  dwelling  too 
much  on  sorrow.  "They  have  been  heavy 
buyers  of  bonds  and  heavy  sellers  of  stocks. 
That's  for  Europe.  They've  sold  us  near 
ly  all  the  sterling  bills  that  we  needed  for 
Grinnell's  drafts.  Grinnell  has  practi 
cally  drawn  all  his  money  and  sent  it  to 
London." 

"I  don't  like  it,  Richard;  I  don't  like  it  a 
bit.  Perhaps  we've  been  too  hasty;  and 
yet  — "  He  stared  at  Dawson  unseeingly. 
" Where  did  he  get  it?"  His  lips  were  dry; 
he  moistened  them  with  the  tip  of  his  tongue 
and  pressed  them  together. 

"William,  every  bullion  dealer  in  the 
world  has  been  interviewed.  Costello  had 
twenty  men  in  the  West  visiting  the  mines 
and  smelters.  We  have  had  reports  from  the 
Klondike,  from  the  Transvaal,  from  Aus 
tralia,  from  mining  engineers  everywhere. 
[179] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

We  have  even  gone  over  the  manifests  of 
vessels  that  have  brought  bullion  here  and  to 
other  ports  this  year.  Costello  was  twice  in 
the  laboratory.  Since  he  promised  to  stop 
depositing,  Grinnell  has  been  idle.  The 
dynamo  has  not  been  running.'* 

"  But  there  must  be  a  mine.'* 

"  I  am  certain  the  gold  doesn't  come  from 
any  mine  on  this  earth." 

"He  may  have  accumulated  it."  The 
richest  man  in  the  world  said  this  without 
conviction. 

"  Who  gave  him  the  money  to  pay  for  it  ?  '* 
asked  Dawson,  in  an  intentionally  contro 
versial  tone,  because  he  vaguely  feared  his 
friend's  doubts  at  this  late  hour.  "And  if 
somebody  gave  it  to  him,  from  whom  did  the 
giver  buy  it  ?  Not  from  any  smelter,  or  mine 
or  dealer  in  the  last  five  years.  That  is  cer 
tain  too." 

"Yes,  yes;  that's  it,"  said  Mellen  irrita- 
[180] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

bly,  because  the  answer  would  not  come. 
"Is  he  under  surveillance  still ?" 

"  Costello  returned  from  the  Pacific  Coast 
Tuesday  night,  and  I  told  him  not  to  lose 
sight  of  Grinnell  for  one  instant."  The  presi 
dent  approached  the  ticker. 

"Hm!"  he  said.  "Quite  a  rally  in  bonds." 
From  force  of  habit  the  richest  man  in  the 
world  drew  near.  He  passed  the  tape 
through  his  fingers  slowly;  then  he  told 
Dawson : 

"  I  think  we'd  better  help  stocks  go  down." 
Seeing  a  doubtful  look  in  the  president's 
eyes,  he  added:  "Oh,  we'll  get  them  back 
cheaper." 

The  door  opened  and  Costello  entered  — 
he  had  instructions  to  walk  into  Mr.  Daw- 
son's  private  office  without  being  announced, 
no  matter  who  might  be  there  with  the  presi 
dent.  Dawson  merely  looked  inquiringly  at 
the  detective  but  the  richest  man  in  the 
[181] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

world  walked  up  to  him  quickly  and  asked : 
"What  is  it,  Costello?" 

"  Did  you  see  Mr.  Grinnell's  marriage  an 
nouncement  in  the  Herald,  sir?"  He  looked 
first  at  Mellen,  then  at  his  chief.  "  It's  among 
the  ads.  in  the  front  page." 

"No,"  answered  Mellen,  turning  toward 
the  table,  but  Dawson  had  already  picked  up 
the  Herald.  He  read  aloud,  Mellen  looking 
over  his  shoulder : 

GRINNELL-ROBINSON.  —  On  Tuesday,  Sep 
tember  12,  by  the  Rev.  DeLancy  Williamson,  at  his 
residence,  Margaret,  daughter  of  Thomas  M.  Robin 
son,  to  George  Kitchell  Grinnell.  Middletown,  N.  Y., 
and  Youngstown,  O.,  papers  please  copy. 

"Robinson?"  said  Mellen  quickly.  He 
answered  an  unspoken  question  of  his  own : 
"But  he  hasn't  so  much." 

Dawson  knew  what  he  meant.  He  shook 
his  head  and  said  with  a  slight  frown:  "I 
[182] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

doubt  if  he  has  even  ten  millions.  I  know 
he  sold  out  all  his  Consolidated  Steel  during 
the  boom  but  that  couldn't  have  been  more 
than  five  millions.  I  don't  think  so."  He 
looked  ill  at  ease. 

"  We  must  see  Grinnell  at  once,"  said  the 
richest  man  in  the  world,  speaking  quickly. 
"If  Robinson  knows  what  Grinnell  is  do 
ing  — "  He  checked  himself  with  a  frown. 
A  great  anger  filled  his  very  soul  to  over 
flowing:  Always  Grinnell  came  before  him 
—  an  obstacle  to  plans,  enveloped  by  doubt- 
breeding  mystery,  surrounded  by  an  uncer 
tainty  which,  by  not  openly  revealing  dangers, 
made  the  young  man  a  ceaseless  menace. 

"Mr.  Grinnell  is  now  at  Wolff,  Herzog's 
office,"  said  Costello.  "He's  been  going 
there  every  day  for  a  week." 

"I  knew  it!"  said  the  richest  man  in  the 
world  explosively.  He  sat  down  in  an  arm 
chair  and  leaned  back,  breathing  quickly. 
[183] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"We  must  make  sure,"  said  Dawson.  He 
sat  down  at  his  desk  and  took  up  the  tele 
phone.  Then  he  said  to  Costello:  "Any 
thing  else?'* 

"No,  sir.  He  went  into  Mr.  Herzog's  pri 
vate  office.  The  door-keeper  told  me  he  was 
a  very  rich  man  and  that  he  came  there  every 
day." 

"Very  well,"  said  Dawson,  dismissingly. 
The  detective  left  the  room.  Mellen  stretch 
ed  his  right  hand  toward  Dawson  and  open 
ed  his  mouth.  But  he  said  nothing.  His  hand 
dropped  and  he  stared  intently  at  a  paper 
weight  on  the  president's  desk. 

Dawson  took  up  the  telephone. 

"Let  me  have  Mr.  Herzog,  at  once,"  he 
said  sharply.  A  minute  later  he  said:  "Her 
zog  ?  —  This  is  Dawson  —  Is  Mr.  Grinnell 
in  your  office  ?"  Mellen  drew  near  and  stood 
beside  his  friend. 

"Hello?"  went  on  Dawson,  with  a  tinge 
[184] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

of  impatience.  "Is  Grinnell — "  He  turned 
to  Mellen  and  explained,  spitefully:  "He 
says  to  wait  a  moment  —  Hello  ?  Yes.  I'd 
like  to  see  him  — " 

"Tell  him  to  wait  for  you  there,"  said 
Mellen,  in  a  tone  of  command.  Dawson 
spoke  into  the  telephone : 

"Well,  if  he'll  wait  for  me  at  your  office 
I'll  run  over  at  once.  Very  well.  Good-bye." 
Dawson  rose  and,  putting  on  his  hat,  fol 
lowed  the  richest  man  in  the  world  who  had 
already  started  out  of  the  office  briskly. 

In  Herzog's  office  the  old  banker,  at  Daw- 
son's  first  question,  carefully  placed  his  hand 
over  the  transmitter  and  said  to  Grinnell: 

"  Dawson  wants  to  know  if  your  are  here." 

"I  cannot  tell  a  lie,"  laughed  Grinnell; 
"I  am." 

A  moment  later  Mr.  Herzog  said:  "He 
says  he  will  come  over  if  you  will  wait  here 
for  him." 

[185] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"Very  well,"  replied  Grinnell.  He  add 
ed:  "I  think  this  will  close  the  incident." 
But  Herzog  shook  his  head  —  he  was  listen 
ing  to  Dawson  and  couldn't  hear  the  young 
man's  words. 

The  bank  president  and  the  richest  man  in 
the  world  walked  more  quickly  than  was 
their  wont,  each  busy  with  his  own  thoughts. 
The  myopic  door-keeper  at  Wolff,  Herzog  & 
Co.'s,  knew  Mr.  Dawson.  He  opened  the 
gate  obsequiously  and  then  hastened  ahead 
and  held  open  the  door  to  Mr.  Herzog's 
private  office.  They  entered  abreast. 

Mr.  Herzog  rose  quickly  and,  walking  to 
ward  them,  extended  his  hand  to  Dawson. 
Then  he  shook  Mellen's.  Grinnell  arose 
from  his  chair  near  Herzog's  desk  and  mere 
ly  said,  "Good-morning,  gentlemen." 

Dawson  bowed  to  him,  and  with  his  dip- 
lomat-at-a-reception  smile,  replied: 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Grinnell." 
[186]- 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

Mellen  used  the  same  words,  and  no 
smile. 

"Be  seated,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Her- 
zog  with  a  polite  wave  of  the  hand. 

"We  came  over  to  congratulate  Mr.  Grin 
nell,"  said  Dawson.  "We've  just  seen  the 
Herald." 

"Yes,"  said  Mellen  grimly. 

"Oh,  thanks,"  returned  Grinnell,  very 
politely. 

"Herzog,"  said  the  richest  man  in  the 
world  abruptly,  "you  have  been  buying  a 
great  many  bonds." 

"We  have  bought  some,"  assented  the 
banker,  with  much  gravity. 

There  was  a  pause.  Grinnell  glanced  at 
Dawson,  who  was  looking  so  extremely 
unconcerned  that  the  young  man  smiled 
slightly.  Mellen,  who  had  been  leaning  for 
ward  in  his  chair,  straightened  himself  and 
asked  curtly:  "Why?" 

[187] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

Mr.  Herzog  arched  his  eyebrows  with  a 
sort  of  amazed  inquisitiveness  and  said  noth 
ing,  intending  his  silence  as  a  snub.  But  he 
changed  his  mind  and  said:  "They  were 
very  cheap." 

The  richest  man  in  the  world  turned  to 
ward  Grinnell.  Before  he  could  ask  any 
questions  the  young  man  said  pleasantly: 
"You  told  me  so  yourself.  Don't  you  re 
member,  Mr.  Mellen  ?" 

"Did  you  buy  any,  Mr.  Grinnell?"  Mel- 
len's  voice  had  a  serious  ring.  The  young 
man's  face  took  on  a  boyishly  confidential 
look.  He  said : 

"  I  bought  some  for  my  father-in-law.  He 
had  been  waiting  for  them  to  go  down.  So 
had  I.  You  see,  my  marriage  was  to  come 
off  as  soon  as  I  had  invested  his  money." 

Mellen's  eyes  opened  wide,  and  Dawson, 
in  a  very  quiet  tone,  asked:  "And  did  you 
invest  yours  as  well  ?" 

[188] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Grinnell,  "that  we 
are  drifting  toward  family  matters  — " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  president 
stiffly. 

"  I  understood,"  the  young  man  said  apol 
ogetically,  "  that  you  wished  to  speak  to  me 
on  some  business  matter.  I  haven't  over 
drawn  my  account,  have  I  ?" 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  discuss  this  at  the 
bank,  Mr.  Grinnell;  if  you  could  come  — " 

"  I'm  very  sorry,  Mr.  Dawson,  but  I  start 
on  my  wedding  tour  in  an  hour.  I  have  no 
business  secrets  from  Mr.  Herzog,  so  if  it  is  a 
business  matter  we  may  discuss  it  here.  In 
all  probability  I  would  repeat  our  conversa 
tion  to  him." 

Dawson's  face  flushed  violently;  his  nos 
trils  dilated  unpleasantly.  Mellen's  face 
turned  perceptibly  paler  and  the  lines  of  it 
became  harder.  But  his  voice  was  steady 
and  his  manner  almost  matter-of-fact  as  he 
[189] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

said  to  the  young  man:  "Then  it  is  almost 
certain  you  are  not  going  to  deposit  too 
much  gold  hereafter  at  the  Metropolitan 
Bank." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  deposit  any  more  gold 
at  any  bank,  because  — "  Grinnell  hesi 
tated. 

"Yes?"  Mellen's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
young  man's  face,  is  if  he  thought  every 
fleeting  expression  was  as  important  as  the 
words  themselves. 

"  Because  I  haven't  any  more  gold  to  de 
posit,"  finished  Grinnell,  very  calmly. 

"That  is  now.  But  will  you  not  pro 
duce  any  more  gold?"  The  richest  man 
in  the  world  spoke  very  quietly  and  very 
distinctly. 

"I  never  produced  any.  I  sold  the  Assay 
Office  the  last  ounce  I  ever  had  over  a  month 
ago." 

'You  must  have  obtained  it  somewhere, 
[190] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

somehow,"  said  the  richest  man  in  the 
world.  His  manner  conveyed  an  impression 
of  patience.  "  Did  you  buy  it  ?" 

"No,  sir.  I  didn't  buy  it."  The  young 
man's  calmness  was  not  theatrical  and  it 
had  a  quieting  effect.  He  paused  an  instant; 
then  he  went  on :  "In  fact,  I  had  no  gold  of 
my  own.  It  was  all  my  father-in-law's."  He 
turned  away  and  rose  as  if  to  go  to  the 
window. 

Mellen  spoke  sharply:  "Mr.  Grinnell!" 

"Yes."  He  looked  the  richest  man  in  the 
world  straight  in  the  eyes.  Mellen  said  rude 
ly:  "Explain  yourself,  sir!" 

"Mr.  Mellen!"  interjected  Herzog.  His 
voice  conveyed  a  rebuke;  but  his  look  was 
austere  rather  than  offended. 

Grinnell  frowned.   He  spoke  to  Mellen 

with  impatience  in  his  voice:  "Mr.  Mellen, 

you  have  asked  me  many  questions,  which 

you  had  no  right  to  ask.  I've  not  said  any- 

[191] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

thing  about  it  before;  but  I  tell  you  now 
that  you  annoy  me!" 

Mellen  turned  livid.  "I  — "  he  began. 

"Listen,  please,"  interrupted  Grinnell 
quickly,  his  face  growing  stern.  "I  am  go 
ing  to  tell  you  about  that  gold.  That  is,  I 
shall  tell  if  you  do  not  interrupt  me.  I  don't 
wish  you  to  ask  me  any  more  questions  — 
not  one." 

For  many  years  no  one  had  spoken  thus  to 
Mellen.  But  he  answered  nothing;  his  eyes 
were  fixed  on  Grinnell's  lips  with  a  fasci 
nated  stare.  Dawson,  unconsciously,  had  al 
lowed  a  frown  of  intense  interest  to  con 
tract  his  brows.  Mr.  Herzog's  head  was  bent 
forward  as  if  not  to  lose  a  word,  his  bright 
little  eyes  blinking  furiously.  Grinnell  spoke 
very  clearly  and  deliberately: 

"My  father-in-law,  Mr.  Robinson,  two 
years  ago  at  the  height  of  the  boom  thought 
the  stock-market  must  collapse  sooner  or 
[192] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

later.  I  became  engaged  to  his  daughter, 
whom  I  had  known  ever  since  I  was  a  boy. 
He  naturally  talked  over  his  affairs  with  me 
in  a  general  way,  though  I  am  not  a  business 
man."  He  paused  as  if  to  pick  his  next 
words.  A  curious  smile  flickered  for  a  frac 
tion  of  a  minute  on  Mr.  Herzog's  lips. 

"  He  wished  to  sell  most  of  his  stock  hold 
ings  in  various  companies  and  then  buy 
bonds.  But  if  stocks  were  too  high,  bonds 
were  not  low  enough.  It  was  therefore  de 
cided  to  sell  stocks  at  once,  but  to  defer  the 
purchase  of  bonds  until  a  more  propitious 
occasion.  That  occasion  came  last  week. 
Mr.  Herzog  bought  the  bonds  for  him. 
That's  where  he  comes  in." 

The  young  man  paused  again.  Mellen  did 
not  interrupt;  he  nodded  twice,  not  quickly 
at  all,  but  in  an  acquiescent  manner  that 
invited  further  revelations.  Grinnell  con 
tinued  slowly: 

[193] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

"Mr.  Robinson  had  been  a  rich  man  for 
years,  but  I  did  not  suspect  how  rich  until  he 
had  sold  all  his  stocks,  when  he  told  me  he 
had  fifty-four  millions  to  his  credit  at  his 
banks.  To  me  this  was  so  incredible  that  it 
made  me  think  a  man  with  that  much  cash 
in  bank  might  do  other  things  just  as  in 
credible.  He  is  one  of  the  unknown  mil 
lionaires  whom  the  newspapers  discover 
when  their  wills  are  probated.  That  fact, 
the  ignorance  as  to  the  extent  of  his  wealth, 
also  would  help.  As  at  that  time  so  many 
of  our  financial  institutions  were  unsafe  be 
cause  their  officers  were  gambling  in  stocks 
and  underwriting  ventures,  we  concluded  to 
lose  the  interest  on  it  and  turn  it  into  gold. 
Once  we  had  accumulated  fifty  millions  in 
gold,  the  existence  of  which  was  unsuspected 
by  bankers  or  brokers  or  newspapers,  it 
was  obvious  that  there  were  various  ways  in 
which  the  gold  and  the  secret  of  it  could  be 
[194] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

made  valuable.  Mr.  Robinson,  lacking  the 
excitement  of  active  speculation  in  stocks, 
and  having  retired  from  active  business, 
was  quite  willing  to  indulge  in  a  few  psycho 
logical  experiments.  I  had  suggested  various 
plans.  He  accepted  one  of  them.  So,  we  got 
the  gold  together."  Grinnell  made  an  end 
of  speaking  and  looked  at  Mr.  Herzog 
meditatively,  as  if  trying  to  remember 
whether  he  had  forgotten  anything,  and  spec 
ulating  on  whether  he  need  say  anything 
more.  Herzog,  oblivious  of  the  presence  of 
Mellen  and  Dawson,  asked  eagerly: 

"Yes,  but  how  ?  Where  did  you  get  that 
much  gold  ?"  It  was  the  one  thing  he  could 
not  guess. 

"  There  was  only  one  way  that  I  could  see. 
We  withdrew  gold  coin  from  circulation, 
gradually,  all  over  the  country,  but  princi 
pally  in  San  Francisco.  We  spent  two  years 
at  it.  It  took  a  great  deal  of  care  and 
[195] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

trouble.  Indeed,  that  was  the  hardest  part. 
As  fast  as  we  got  it  I  took  it  to  my  house, 
which  I  had  bought  for  that  very  purpose, 
and  melted  it  into  bars  so  heavy  that  no  bur 
glar  could  carry  away  one.  I  painted  them 
black  and  put  them  in  the  cellar,  near  the 
back  wall.  They  were  safe." 

"Ah!"  The  sigh  came  from  the  Hebrew 
banker  who  now  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  looked  at  Dawson.  The  president's  lips 
were  slightly  parted,  and  the  frown  was  still  on 
his  face,  his  eyes  on  Grinnell.  Mellen's  face 
had  lost  its  tense  look.  He  said,  very  quietly : 

"I  see!" 

"I  deposited  the  gold,  as  Assay  Office 
checks,  in  Mr.  Dawson's  bank,  and  stopped 
calling  on  my  fiancee.  Later,  I  bought  the 
bonds.  I  didn't  see  Mr.  Herzog  until  they 
were  cheap." 

The  president,  his  voice  husky  with  anger, 
said:  "Then  you  deliberately  — " 
[196] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

"Don't!"  commanded  the  young  man 
sharply.  "Of  course,  I  assumed  that  busi 
ness  training  and  Wall  Street  practices  did 
not  kill  the  imaginative  faculty.  That  is 
what  I  had  to  work  on.  No  financier  can  be 
great  that  has  not  great  imagination.  And 
you  gentlemen  are  great  financiers.  If  you 
will  recall  my  exact  words  at  the  various 
times  that  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you, 
Mr.  Dawson,  you  will  not  find  one  that  is  un 
true.  I  made  no  assertion  that  was  not  jus 
tified  by  facts.  I  recall  every  word  because  I 
studied  them  very  carefully."  There  was  no 
self-complacency  in  the  young  man's  man 
ner.  It  was  a  trifle  deprecatory  toward  the 
end ;  the  light  in  his  eyes  kept  it  from  being 
humility. 

"Youscound—  " 

"Richard!"  interjected  the  richest  man  in 
the  world,  soothingly.  He  had  already  rec 
koned  the  extent  of  his  enormous  losses,  for 
[197] 


THE  GOLDEN  FLOOD 

he  would  have  to  buy  back  at  high  prices 
bonds  he  had  sold  at  low,  and  he  would  have 
to  reverse  the  process  in  stocks.  Grinnell, 
or  his  father-in-law,  probably  had  made 
fifteen  or  twenty  millions  through  the  mis 
take.  Mellen's  losses,  because  of  the  imag 
inative  faculty,  would  probably  be  twice  as 
great.  But  gold  was  gold  still,  and  therefore, 
he  was  not  ruined.  He  would  retrieve  the 
loss.  He  saw  what  he  must  do. 

He  turned  with  a  look  of  almost  benignity 
to  the  young  man  and  said  suavely:  "Mr. 
Grinnell,  I  should  like  to  have  you  come  to 
see  me  when  you  have  time.  You  have  told 
me  a  very  interesting  story.  I  should  like 
to  see  more  of  you.  You  are  rich,  but  — "  He 
stopped,  to  look  encouragingly  at  the  young 
man. 

"  Oh,  no,"  laughed  Grinnell,  "  my  father- 
in-law  is.  But  even  he  is  not  in  your  class." 

"Come  and  see  me  anyhow.  There  is  no 
[198] 


THE  PARADOXICAL  PANIC 

telling  what  class  you  will  be  in."  In  his 
mild  earnestness  and  soft  voice  there  was  an 
unmistakable  promise.  The  young  man  did 
not  answer.  Dawson  now  smiled  affably. 

"  Mr.  Grinnell,  you  are  still  one  of  our  de 
positors,  you  know,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of 
claiming  family  relationship. 

"Yes;  to  the  extent  of  $342.  I'll  give  that 
to  the  detectives  who  —  Oh,  no  offence,  Mr. 
Dawson.  I'm  sorry  I  must  leave  you.  We 
married  men  have  trials."  He  shook  hands 
warmly  with  Mr.  Herzog,  nodded  pleas 
antly  to  Dawson  and  Mellen,  and  said: 
"Good-morning,  gentlemen." 

As  the  door  closed  on  George  Kitchell 
Grinnell,  Mellen,  thinking  of  the  new  work 
ing  alliance  he  must  effect  with  Herzog  in 
order  to  facilitate  the  campaign  of  retreat 
and  re-conquest,  turned  to  the  Hebrew 
banker  and  said  quietly : 

"  Now,  Herzog,  let's  get  down  to  business." 


THE  MCCLURE  PRESS,  NEW  YORK 


FEI 


DATE  DUE 


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